


Creative Differences

by HerSistersKeeper, pythia



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awesome Phasma, Badass Phasma, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Companionable Snark, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hollywood, Hux Has No Chill, Hux is Not Nice, Phasma Ships It, Rey Kenobi, Rey Needs A Hug, Sassy, Screenwriter, Snark, Social Media, Writers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 15:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11649522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerSistersKeeper/pseuds/HerSistersKeeper, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pythia/pseuds/pythia
Summary: Ben sighed as he opened up Gmail to find three emails from R. Kenobi, his nemesis and collaborator on the sci-fi universe he was building for Disney. Kenobi was a hot-ticket YA author, known for his impeccable world building, languages  and systems of magic. He was apparently collaborating with Marvel and according to his agent, Kenobi’s first novel had just been made into a big-budget film. It was highly anticipated and expected to come out at Christmas.





	1. Shots Fired

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!! PythiaSpeaks and I are so excited to be collaborating on this AU!! 
> 
> (If you're ever curious as to who is writing what, HSK is writing for Rey/Rey's friends, and PythiaSpeaks is writing for Ben and Ben's friends!!) 
> 
> We're so excited to see what you think! Thanks so much!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when you've got some very excited Star Wars fans high off all the new stuff from D23. It is also our first time co-writing anything.
> 
> HerSisters keeper is writing Rey, Finn and Poe. Pythia is writing Ben and Phasma.

Ben sighed as he opened up Gmail to find three emails from R. Kenobi, his nemesis and collaborator on the sci-fi universe he was building for Disney. Kenobi was a hot-ticket YA author, known for his impeccable world building, languages and systems of magic. He was apparently collaborating with Marvel and according to his agent, Kenobi’s first novel had just been made into a big-budget film. It was highly anticipated and expected to come out at Christmas.  

 

Apparently, he was a prodigy, just like Ben was back in his late teens and early twenties. So naturally, everyone thought that they would work well together. Everyone was always wrong about that. At thirty, Ben didn’t want to be around younger, successful writers. He’d spent a couple of decades being a prodigy himself putting out his first volume of literary fiction at nineteen. Kenobi’s resume made him feel old and tired if he was totally honest.

 

Group work should be banned after tenth grade. Writing is a solitary art. It was one of the reasons he’d studied writing at Iowa: it was just him and the blank page. It was like single combat, only Ben was dueling himself. Having Kenobi around would just hamper his creative process.

 

The Disney job is honestly a dream come true. Ben was tasked with cinematic universe large enough to cater to children and adults. The scope of the project was staggering and that was really exciting to him. Most of his best pieces of screenwriting always did well on the festival circuit but languished when put out for wide release.   Maz Kenata, the studio head, had an incredibly spare outline for three movie scripts and wanted to see what they could do together creatively.

 

He’d had the outline for about a day and a half, reading it over as he shuffled from his front door to pick up deliveries from Postmates, to his office in the living and even into the bathroom. Ben had spent about two hours sitting in his bathtub, smoking a joint while writing notes in the margins in smeary red ink. It reminded him of graduate school in Iowa, trying to figure out how to provide constructive feedback to his pretentious classmates on their overwrought pieces.

  


Ben looked at the emails from Kenobi, the subject lines were totally blank. According to his email client, they were sent around midnight, while he was asleep in Los Angeles. Too much red wine at dinner with Phasma. He remembered that Kenobi lived somewhere out on the east coast, where it had been at least three am. God, Kenobi was going to be a pain in his ass. He should look at those emails and respond like a professional.

 

Instead, he opened up Twitter.

 

**“Good Morning! Some news: I'm working with newcomer @rkenobi on a secret project. I am very excited for this opportunity.  - BS”**

* * *

 

Across the country, Rey Kenobi was glowering at her phone, holding it aloft as if it was little more than a nuisance. She had been waiting to hear from Ben Solo the whole morning and she huffed as she checked the time again. 11:04 a.m. By now, she had been expecting to be writing again, having arranged everything for her visit to Los Angeles later this month. No, instead, she had been doing busy work, waiting for an email, a phone call, anything, as she scrubbed her kitchen and worked on laundry.

 

Rey didn’t know what it was about those Hollywood types that made them think that a tweet is an appropriate way to touch base, but she had expected more from the great Ben Solo. She snorted softly at the thought, fingers flying across her touchscreen before she backspaced, dropping the phone among the load of laundry she was folding. She braced herself against the laundry basket in front of her, hands curling around the handles tightly until her knuckles turned white.

 

“You’re better than this. You’re motherfucking R. Kenobi, for god’s sake. You deserve more than a tweet, and you know it. He knows it. You deserve a professional response.” She felt ridiculous, muttering to herself, but the more she thought about it, the hotter her face burned with anger.

 

She wasn’t sure what made her more heated: that he tweeted about her or that he called her a newcomer. Both things were practically unforgivable, but Rey couldn’t say as much: she was a professional, after all. She had been in the business just long enough to know better than to take offense, but the presumptuousness of this Ben Solo had her choking on frustration.

 

 _I technically didn’t need him! I could’ve written the screenplay AND the book myself._ That wasn’t completely true, but it didn’t matter at the moment. Rey wasn’t a diva, by any means, but then she grit her teeth, thinking of all the things she had said no to the night before, muttering darkly to herself as she threw down the towel in her hands to swipe up her phone.

 

“Sorry, Poe! I can’t come to the farmer’s market with you and Finn after my writing time tomorrow. I’ll be waiting for Mr. ‘Big and Important Screenwriter’ to _tweet_ at me.” Her thumbs danced across her screen now, and there was something so satisfying about hitting that reply button, her response lighting up the screen:

 

**“@Bsolo if you were that excited, you’d have responded to my emails by now. But thank you, I suppose. :-P”**

 

Rey sucked in a breath, glancing down her nose at her phone, and with a few quick keystrokes, she tweeted again, dropping the phone to give it a bit of finality:

 

**“@Bsolo also: I’m not a newcomer. #ThankYouVeryMuch”**

* * *

 

When he worked, Ben shut off his phone and closed any extra applications. During graduate school, he would lock himself away on Saturdays and Sundays to write without interruption. It freaked out his roommate, a chemistry graduate student, who thought he was dead more than a few times after Ben failed to answer his door.

 

He’d had a productive morning after sitting down at his desk and scanning his notes to email to Kenobi. Ben has also responded to his earlier emails, impressed with his additions to the framework that Maz provided them with. Kenobi might be younger than him, but he was certainly talented.

 

**Kenobi -**

 

**Thanks for sending me your notes. You've got some great ideas. I've transferred everything to a Google doc so we can avoid having to send files back and forth like it's 1998. If you have issues reading my writing on my scans, just shoot me a tweet or a text. I'm looking forward to working with you.**

 

**Best,**

**Ben Solo**

**555-123-4567**

 

With that last email sent, Ben stretched and saw that he’d worked a solid three hours. He had not showered or gotten dressed yet, but it was only eleven. Still respectable for someone working from home. He turned on his iPhone and padded into the kitchen, searching for a cup of coffee. As the Keurig heated up, Ben scrolled through his notifications and snorted at Kenobi’s response to his tweet before starting work that day. Success had clearly not thickened his partner’s skin, but that wasn't common for people in this business.

 

**@rkenobi - Check your email. I don't work past midnight unless I'm on a deadline. I’m a morning person. I work 8-5 PST.**

 

Frowning, Ben snapped a selfie, including his messy hair and holding up his Iowa mug.

 

**@rkenobi - This will be fun, I'm sure. - B.S.**

 

Hitting send, Ben hoped that Kenobi would lighten the fuck up. They weren't trying to broker peace in the Middle East.

 

* * *

  


Rey barely heard her phone chirp once, then twice, her headphones on full blast as she swept around her kitchen, the fifth cup of earl gray tea in hand, the steam curling against her cheeks as she took a sip.

 

It had been three hours since she tweeted at Ben Solo, and two hours and fifty-eight minutes since Poe had texted her, practically panicking, asking if she was trying to start a feud, if she was just asking for Disney to drop her, picking a fight with the go-to screenwriter in Hollywood. She had not gotten any writing done in that time, instead forcing her frustration out on the kitchen floor, her knees still a bit red from how long she had been scrubbing the floor.

 

She had gotten those emails, finally. It had taken long enough, and it struck her odd how civil Solo seemed, considering her tweets. Oh well. She leaned over the kitchen counter, laptop keys clicking as she typed her response to his last email.

 

**Ben,**

 

**I’m glad to hear that you like the ideas. I’m trying to keep the fans in mind while I write, as always. I should’ve just sent you a Google doc and saved us both time, but it could be worse--I could’ve sent you the files via homing pigeons, like back in 1898. (Excuse my humor--it was a late night.)**

 

**I look forward to working with you as well.**

 

**-R.Kenobi**

**212-334-5567**

 

That response was sitting on her screen still, petulantly like a pouting child. She didn’t mind-- if he had made her wait, he could wait too.

 

Rey sighed, thumb gentle on the screen as she slowly scrolled through and reread the messages, trying not to snicker at the twenty-eight texts Poe had sent in the span of half an hour. This is what she gets for having your best friend as your publicist, she mused, taking another sip of her tea, quirking an eyebrow now. There was a new message, but from Finn now, and Rey huffed, bracing herself for a scolding.

 

The message was simple, no more than three words: **Check your Twitter.** Rey frowned, her fingers hovering over the text, tempted to ask, but no, it’s better if she saw for herself. She huffed as she opened Twitter on her phone and it crashed right away as the many missed notifications surged for attention. Apparently, her snarky responses had been just a little more than a bit popular. Great.

 

It took her a few minutes of scrolling to wade through the many notifications, and she almost swiped over his response, but her fingers stuttered over the picture he had attached to the last tweet he sent.

 

 _Oh no, he’s hot. No, no, no, Rey. Get off that train of thought right now. He’s an asshole first, screenwriter second, good-looking last. Always last._ She all but growled at herself for lingering over the photo, biting the inside of her cheek as she wondered if his hair was as soft as it looked...and then she promptly closed the app. She all but had to force herself to breathe, flinching as her phone chirped again. Another text from Finn.

 

**Handsome, huh?**

 

Her response was just as long and half as polite: **Shut up.**

 

Rey wasn’t quite sure how to respond to Solo as she warily re-opened the app, looking over his replies. She debated whether or not to send a selfie back, but she winced at the thought. Not many people knew that R. Kenobi was a woman. It’d come out sooner than later when the movie came out, but in the meantime, that secret was still her own. Besides, she didn’t want it to appear like she was...flirting with Ben Solo.

 

She scoffed at herself. How ludicrous! She didn’t have time for men, not even if they have cute bed-head and managed to pull off dark undereye circles. Before replying, she sent off that email, grumbling under her breath that it wasn’t her fault that his timezone was stupid.

 

**@Bsolo I’m sorry if my late hours inconvenienced you. I was up late chasing down a plot bunny: you can relate, yes?**

 

Rey tapped her phone against her chin as she fretted, wondering if that was too coy, if she should have stuck to aggression. She shook her head, typing another tweet and sending it off:

 

**@Bsolo there should be an email waiting for you now, whenever you’re ready. BTW: nice mug.**

 

She wondered if she could turn her music up louder, blast her eardrums out, something to distract her from the sound of her heart thudding loudly as her blush climbed from the back of her neck to her cheeks. She was going to need something stronger than tea to get through the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

It was two o’clock, which meant Ben could open Twitter and check his email. He had an obsessive personality, the type that would spiral into dramatics at the drop of a hat. If he kept Twitter or his email open, he’d never finish anything. During one project, he paid Phasma’s thirteen-year-old niece Kira, to come over and take his phone during his writing hours. She made twenty bucks an hour sitting at his pool (which he never used, because fuck the sun) for an entire summer, making sure that he didn’t fall behind. He won a SAG award for that script, so it was pretty much worth it.

 

Opening Twitter, Ben was pleasantly surprised to find that his exchange with Kenobi had gone viral, thanks to his selfie and Kenobi’s snark. People were already wondering about the nature of their project, which was always good. Hollywood loved a little creative friction, and Ben was used to being the prickly one. It was sort of nice to be the older, reasonable one, instead of the hothead who would burn professional bridges at the drop of a hat. It was still weird to think of himself as an adult, when he still felt like a gawky teenager, fresh out of high school with big ears and a shitty brain to mouth filter.

 

**@rkenobi: I’m sure you’ll have your own IWW mug soon.**

 

      Ben scanned through Kenobi’s notes and considered Phasma’s niece Kira. That summer she’d devoured the Percy Jackson series, meant for a younger reader, but Kira had _loved_ a character named Annabeth Chase. She told Ben, “I wish you and Aunt Phasma would just make movies about Annabeth. Guys get all the adventures. What about Hermione? She saved Harry and Ron all the time. Annabeth is just as awesome as Percy.” He hadn’t thought about Kira in years, she had to be at least seventeen now. Ben hoped that the kid’s idea of a perfect summer was still a stack of unread books by a sunny pool.

 

He tapped out a text to Kenobi:

 

**Kenobi - It’s Solo.**

**I keep thinking about my agent’s niece. She was like, 13,  and spent a summer stealing my phone so I’d meet my deadline. Anyway, she told me that she wanted books about Hermione and Annabeth Chase.**

 

**I don’t know shit about kid’s books, but if we’re going to make a big universe, one that grows up with kids... We need to remember kids like Kira. I think we need to do some gender swaps, particularly Michael. The hero needs to be a girl. We can bring on some female writers to make sure that we don’t fuck this up.**

 

**Think Wonder Woman - why not aim high?  What are your travel plans? I think we should do more of this face to face. Maz has office space for us, but we can find somewhere else for to work if we don’t like it there.**

  


**Also - Were you joking about my age? Alcoholism and living in LA surrounded by hipsters will do the same thing to your dewy, twenty-something complexion too.**

 

* * *

* * *

 

Rey had just barely focused her phone’s camera on her alma mater mugs (Northwestern Uni for grad school and Kenyon College for undergrad), intent on sending at least one picture into the Twitter-sphere when the text came in. Grimacing, she snapped a photo anyway, switching back to her half composed tweet.

 

Twitter exchange first; whoever texted, second.

 

She felt almost silly for enjoying this exchange. It wasn’t any intellectual sparring by any means--but she didn’t mind the lack. It was nice to show someone what she was like, albeit in front of an audience called the internet. But she digressed, tapping out the last few words and attaching the photo of the two mugs, plus a thumbs up between them, to her tweet and released it into the public eye.

 

**@Bsolo No need for another mug--I like mine just as much, if not better. Thanks, though <3**

 

Rey knew that she was going to be teased by the boys for the little heart, and honestly, she wasn’t sure if Solo would rise to the occasion and brush the cutesy detail off, or if he would back down, embarrassed. Or worse: if he would read into it and think she was flirting (so unprofessional). Either way, she had fun while it lasted.

 

She knew it was stupid to send a heart, to even halfway flirt. (Yes, she’d deny it, but it was the truth.) Considering the fact that he, as well as a million other people, thought she was a man because of her pseudonym, she figured that some little website would latch onto it and start speculation that either she was a woman (which was true) or perhaps savage and willing to make someone uncomfortable to have the last word (also true).

 

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she stayed somewhat professional, which was all but impossible when she saw who had texted her in the past five minutes.

 

“Ben Solo just texted me” was a phrase Rey never thought she would utter, but here she was, standing in her kitchen in socked feet and an oversized button down, looking like a mess but saying those words. It was surreal and she hated it.

 

When she read his first text, her eyebrows had raised in pleasant surprise. It felt rare for anyone in the industry to want female characters, especially female characters written by women. She bit back a relieved grin, thinking of how Michael started out as a Mia, but she had been forced to change it about two drafts in when she still wrote for Jakku Publishing. Her former editor, Edgar Plutt, had been an old sexist man and the chance to go back to how things were before? She’d kiss Ben Solo if she could.

 

 _Only because I’m grateful, not because I’m attracted._ She thought, idly tapping on her screen, trying to think of her response but failing. That was followed up with, _Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that, you dolt._

 

**Ben-- I’m way ahead of you on the gender swaps. I’ll send you my old notes. And don’t worry too much about finding female writers to help with the characters. I have a bit of a head start on that as well. I’ll be out to LA about two weeks from now--my publicist wants me to do press for once before the movie in a few months, and I can’t avoid it forever. Wherever you want to meet is fine.**

 

It was as civil as she had been in their exchanges thus far, and about as honest about herself too, and so she sent the text with a little bit of glee.  However, Rey’s brows furrowed and then raised as her phone chirped again, a little straggler of a text coming through now, the message just a little bit...odd.

 

If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was trying to banter, maybe even flirt, color rising to her cheeks as she read it again. However, she did know better or at least knew that he thought she was a man in need of a mentor, and the text just came across...odd. Still, she pushed on, deciding to bite the bullet and respond.

 

**Also--I wasn’t mentioning anything about your age, though if you do still have a homing pigeon, I think that makes you a hipster too, not old.  And I don’t have to worry about my “dewy” complexion like you probably do, but then again, I probably sold my soul for everlasting youth, so don’t beat yourself up over your gray hair (on the left side, slightly by your ear). <3**

 

With a smirk, Rey sent the text off, quickly taking a screenshot and sending it off to Poe and Finn, with the accompanying comment being: **Sooooo…. Who’s coming to Los Angeles to make sure this guy doesn’t try to steal my “dewy complexion”?**

* * *

  
At five o’clock, Ben stopped his revisions for the day and turned on his phone. Reading Kenobi's text he tapped out a quick reply

**Kenobi - I am not a hipster. Hipsters just stole my stuff and made it popular. Before them, I just got to be an asshole.  [insert dramatic sigh] Sucks to be a millennial. You'll see what I mean when you're out here.**

 

 

Opening Twitter, Ben saw that his tweets with Kenobi were still garnering a significant amount of attention, particularly since he’d tweeted back his own collection of alumni mugs to Ben. There was a little heart too, which made him laugh and favorite the tweet.

 

Scrolling through the rest of his tweets were a few questions about his personal life and weird observations about his appearance. He knew that he’d grown into his features - large nose, lanky frame and big ears - but he would always feel like a gawky kid, deep down.  If he was ever honest with himself outside of the confines of his therapist’s office, that was one of the reasons he was so eager to be successful as an adult. The other reason he tried not to think about.

 

**BSolo: Thanks for the inquiries, but I haven't had a girlfriend or boyfriend in a long time. Enjoy my 9th-grade yearbook photo and play nice with each other.**

  
  
  


* * *

 

It was about eight o’clock when Rey’s phone chirped again, this time over a tweet from Ben Solo, and she turned away, shielding it from possibly prying eyes as Poe and Finn bumped around her, their spoils from the farmer’s market laid out across her kitchen table next to a new bottle of wine. They were chattering, so she doubted that they would bother her too much as she thumbed through Solo’s Twitter profile for the millionth time today.

 

Rey loathed to admit that she turned on notifications for whenever he tweeted, but she couldn’t resist. Not after he tweeted that picture and liked her response, which hardly counted as flirting, let alone friendship, she realized with an eye roll. But now there was a pic of him, so much younger, awkwardly half smiling and large-eared and she couldn’t fight back the smile.

 

“What is it, Peanut?” Finn was glancing over her shoulder before she could hide her phone, and his whooping laugh was loud in her ear as he plucked it out of her hands. “Poe, our little peanut made a friend on Twitter today!”

 

Poe shook his head with an exasperated but amused smile as Rey turned quickly, frowning as her friend scampered to the other side of the kitchen island, laughing almost maniacally as he scrolled through Solo’s Twitter.

 

“I’m so glad that you’re playing nice now,” was Poe’s comment, his attention not straying from the cutting board and the pile of vegetables waiting to be chopped and added to the chili bubbling on the stove. The author bared her teeth at him anyway, crossing her arms with a huff.

 

“Only because he seems mostly harmless...now, at least. Who knows once I get to Los Angeles with my ‘dewy complexion’.” She raised her arms, fingers flexing as she provided air quotes with a roll of her eyes, glancing back to smirk at Finn as he commented:

 

“How does he know your complexion is dewy? Has he seen a picture of you?” Rey barely had opened her mouth when Poe shook his head, frowning.

 

“No photos yet. Rey isn’t even allowed to make her personal Instagram public until after the movie this Christmas. We’d have to beat the boys off with sticks if a photo of her was on the internet.” He waved around the soup ladle, miming bashing someone over the head, prompting a giggle from Rey.

 

“Why--should I be worried about being flooded with marriage proposals, or with men declaring that ‘women can’t write’?” Poe groaned at this, pinching the bridge of his nose as if both sounded like nightmares.

 

“It’s decided--no Instagram for you. Ever. I’m too old to be beating men off my client.”

 

“Rey, are you going to text Solo back?” Finn’s voice was innocent, even though his grin was not. “Shouldn’t keep the man who wants your complexion waiting.”

 

“Give me that.” She swiped her phone out of his outstretched hand with a grin, glancing back at the text, sighing as she chewed her lip, trying to remain cool.

 

**Ben-- I live in Brooklyn. That’s basically where hipsters are made outside of Portland. I’ve seen it all, so bring it on.**

 

“Bring it on? Really, Rey?” She growled at her publicist’s laugh as he read over her shoulder. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you have a crush.”

 

“Do not!”

 

“C’mon, Poe. It’s not like she’d ever admit it.” Finn swiped her phone away, tossing it to his boyfriend. “Now take our picture so I can show our little peanut how to flirt online.”

 

Poe sighed, shaking his head as he shooed the two against a white wall, despite Rey’s protests. Finn looked fine with his Batman shirt and nice face. She, on the other hand, was still in workout gear, not having time to shower and redress before her friends had shown up at her door, food, and wine in hand. She beckoned for her half full wine glass, tossing back the contents quickly as if to give herself some courage.

 

“Let’s get this over with,” she sighed. Rey didn’t even attempt to smile, crossing her arms and looking insolently at the phone’s camera. Poe chuckled as Finn mimicked her gaze, the camera flashing.

 

“I’m going to throw a filter on this…and now it’s all set for your finishing touches, Peanut.” Rey could feel her cheeks warm, and she supposed she was grateful when Finn grabbed the phone instead, typing something up quickly and tweeting the photo along with it.

  


**@Bsolo what if I can’t play nice? (Also, enjoy this photo from tonight of me looking tough.) <3**

 

****

 

* * *

 

 Phasma sat in Ben’s living room drinking a glass of white wine and staring at him as if he had suddenly decided to quit working as a writer to work as a runway model. He wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to have done. He looked at her, folded up on his ratty velvet sofa, feet curled under her and wanted to scream in frustration. She was a sphinx.

 

“What? What did I do? Tell me so I can apologize or tell you that you’re smothering me creatively?” Ben sat back in his arm chair, a broken in piece that he found at an estate sale Phasma dragged him to a few months ago after she’d sold a book of his poetry. It was like someone had covered a chair in leather from a vintage jacket. They stared each other for a long moment and Ben sighed, rolling his eyes before taking a long pull from his beer.

 

“I’m honestly trying to figure out why you were so nice to your new writing partner, the famous  R. Kenobi. He’s younger, better-looking and ridiculously successful,” Phasma narrowed her eyes at him, looking like she was about to aim a gun in his direction. “Did you get laid? Smoke too much weed this morning? Something changed, and I can’t put my finger on it.”

 

Phasma nodded at the stack of Kenobi’s books that she brought over Ben’s request, “I also like your change in reading material.”

 

Ben glared at Phasma, it was irritating how to carefully monitored his online presence and handled him like a feral animal. He drank another sip of his beer and narrowed his eyes into slits, mirroring Phasma’s favored expression when interrogating her clients. She was the closest thing he had to a friend in Los Angeles, but he couldn’t help resenting her intrusions, at a certain level.

 

“Phasma, you know perfectly well that getting laid would involve having to speak to someone that isn’t you or employed by Postmates,” Phasma opened her mouth to respond and Ben cut her off, “How do you even know that Kenobi is better looking than me? His Twitter picture is a cat.” He frowned and swirled his beer around inside the bottle. It was getting warm, he always was so slow to drink beer. Ben liked beer, but it he always found himself with a warm, half-full beer.

 

Phasma smirked, “Check Twitter, R. Kenobi posted his first official photo. Poor taste to be wearing a Batman t-shirt when you’ve got a contract with Marvel, but that’s Poe Dameron’s problem, not mine.”

 

He made a face back at Phasma, walking into his tiny kitchen to put his beer in the fridge. Ben put his bottle inside the fridge and stared at its contents, neatly arranged with the labels facing out. He ate a lot of hummus and raw vegetables, as cooking took time away from writing. Cursing Phasma, Ben pulled out his phone and checked Twitter. Kenobi had posted a photo of himself with a pretty brunette-- his girlfriend maybe? He looked younger than 24, thanks to his round, baby face. He looked like a nice guy, despite the “tough” expressions that he and the woman wore. Ben hadn’t been flirting before, but now, it would be difficult not to needle the guy on occasion. Once a day, at the most. Maybe twice, if the writing was going badly.

 

“Fuck you, Phasma.”

 

Her laughter filled the front room. She was always right. Damn her.

  



	2. Surprise, Suprise

“Nervous, Peanut?” Rey glanced up at Finn from her notes, pushing her reading glasses up onto her head as Poe plopped down into the plush, wheeled chair next to her at the conference room table. Two weeks had flown by since she had been paired with Ben Solo for the Disney franchise, and now it was the big day; or rather, the big reveal. The smile she gave to her friend and editor was tight lipped, and she cleared her throat once more, looking up at the clock again.

 

10:25 a.m. In five minutes, Solo would be waltzing in here, probably well rested and at ease, and here she was, her hands tight on her notes, a bit of perspiration gathering on her palms. She rubbed them against her skirt, tried to gain her composure, wishing that she could have postponed the meeting, but Maz Kanata was at the head of the table already, smiling serenely at her despite her bespectacled eyes having this wild, mischievous energy gathering there.

 

Rey stifled a yawn, rubbing her face with her hand, careful not to touch her brows, eyes or lips, her makeup applied with care for once. She had left her usual messy bun and accidentally smudged eyeliner look back in New York, wondering if she’d stick out too much in Hollywood. She hadn’t really thought too much about style when she was packing, more about writing in comfort, soft sweaters and loose pants, maybe the occasional button down... but now, despite it being on the cusp of fall, it was still a balmy 70 degrees out on the west coast, and she had left most of her sundresses at home. Just another reason to be out of it this morning.

 

Her flight to LA had gotten in late, and while Poe and Finn had fallen asleep soundly in the next room of her apartment ( _home for the next six months_ _at least_ , she reminded herself with a grimace), she hadn’t slept. When she was getting prepared in this morning, the boys bumping into her as they shared the sink, brushing teeth, filling in eyebrows, applying cologne, they asked her what she had done all night, having found her asleep on the couch instead of her bed.

 

 _Oh, just pacing around the entire damn apartment because I’m nervous about the manuscript and maybe being accused of catfishing a famous screenwriter. You know, the usual. Nothing to see here. Your peanut is right as rain._ Rey scowled internally, finger plunking against the smooth wood table top as if she was backspacing on an invisible laptop as if trying to undo her mistakes.

 

It wasn’t her fault that the internet had all but exploded the night she had posted the photo of her and Finn. It certainly wasn’t her fault that everyone, including Ben Solo probably, believed that R. Kenobi was Finn, not the brunette next to him. Of course. It had gotten out of hand with multiple websites writing about it, and her poor friend dealt with it, all with a tense smile. But they hadn’t corrected anyone. This was the first step to doing just that, even as her stomach flipped again.

 

She couldn’t help but think about the one message she had sent to Ben this morning before all but throwing it at Finn to hold onto, even now as it sat a few inches from her now, traitorously silent.

 

**Good morning, Ben! I got in last night, so I’ll be too tired to snark during the meeting, I promise. By the way, I technically have something for you. Surprise would probably be the best word for it. You’ll see what I mean at the meeting. Excited to see you in person!**

 

Rey didn’t expect a response from him-- she had sent it before eight, in his strict “non-work hours”. There was a smirk that played on her lips for a second, thinking of an instance or two where she was fairly sure he had a bit too much to drink and had said to hell with his work hours and texted her until the sun had come up on her coast. It took only a toss of her head to shake the thought out. _Not now, Rey._

 

She muttered a thank you as Poe nudged her arm, placing a cup of coffee in front of her, Finn following in a moment with a water bottle. She never let the boys wait on her like this, but she felt how tense her shoulders were, how she sat ramrod straight in her chair, stomach doing flips, and so she just accepted it, twisting the cap off the bottle and carefully taking a swig. The author knew that her story was flawless so far, that the ideas were marketable, exactly what Maz wanted, but the fact that she was losing her composure now, as if she was in middle school again, waiting to be asked to dance at homecoming?

 

Well, she blamed Ben Solo. He made her do foolish things, like overdress. Rey told herself that she was just trying to impress the Disney representatives, but she knew that it wasn’t for professional reasons that she pulled her hair up in a chignon this morning and dabbed on red lipstick. She wasn’t wearing a dress that slipped over her curves with black silk to impress a man with her mind, and she sure as hell didn’t need the heels that pinched her feet now to further her claim to brilliance. She felt like a fool and she was sure that he would see through her in an instance.

 

Absentmindedly, she lowered her reading glasses so that they were perched on her nose, the rims thick and slightly hipsterish. That hadn’t been a mistake--at this point, it was just one of the inside jokes she had started with her collaborator. There was a dark chuckle threatening to bubble up in her throat, to direct at herself, but she quelled it with another swallow of water, frowning at the clock.

 

10:28 a.m. Her phone buzzed, and she hesitated to grab it from beside her pens and notes, instead burying her attention into her notes again. Anything to remind herself that this was business and that she was a professional. She jerked up as a hand squeezed her shoulder, but it was just Poe, his smile quiet. “It’s okay. Nothing we haven’t dealt with before, right?”

 

“Right.” She forced her smile to grow, reaching out to pat both men’s hands, their chairs flanking hers as if she was a princess and they were her guards. Her phone buzzed again, but now it was 10:30, and she reached out, pressing a button and silencing it, leaning down to slip it into her bag as the door all but banged open.

 

Ben didn’t want to admit it, but he’d spent a fortnight sulking about the ongoing Kenobi disaster. It was really unacceptable. His writing and development partner was brilliant, talented and probably taken. They never discussed the photo on Twitter, but Ben could tell from Kenobi’s tweets that he did _not_ want to discuss specific details about his personal life.

 

It was almost a bit old Hollywood, the way that Kenobi played everything so close to the chest. His mother would definitely approve. All of Ben’s disasters were out there for anyone to find if they were inclined to search his name. If they searched his parents - well, that would be a whole other level of disaster. It just sucked because he didn’t really ever like anyone, regardless of gender. With Kenobi in town, he would at least talk to someone that he actually liked who wasn’t Phasma or a Postmates driver.

 

Phasma picked him up at nine-thirty in her silver Tesla and marched Ben into his meeting with Maz Kanata like a prison guard. She had taken a certain level of pity on him and brought his favorite coffee, allowing him to drink it in her car. The last time that Phasma had let Ben drink in her car was 2013, and he was massively hung over after the SAG Awards.

 

Ben opened the door into the conference room, accidentally banging it open. He regularly had problems with opening things with too much or too little force, a product of being so much bigger than everyone around him. At his first meeting with Phasma, he was stunned to meet a woman who was actually taller than him - a full inch. When he fumbled the door awkwardly, trying not to drop his coffee, Phasma didn’t move to help him, she just fucking laughed.

 

As they entered, Maz Kenata, the tiniest and oldest woman in Hollywood stood up and actually grinned at them from behind her thick glasses.

 

“Ben Solo! Phasma Hunt! Come in, come in! Please meet Rey Kenobi, her agent, Finn Walker, and publicist, Poe Dameron,” she gleefully shook Ben and Phasma’s hands before showing them to the conference table.

 

As they sat, Ben suddenly realized that R. Kenobi was not the good-looking black man sitting in front of him, but the beautiful brunette sitting directly across from him. He’d written a least twenty screenplays, two novels, and a couple of poetry books. None of his wildest imaginings about anything would have prepared him for this turn of events. It was like a shitty version of Twelfth Night, and he wasn’t a fan of Shakespeare. His life was turning into a shitty, modern adaptation of Shakespeare. _A real fucking surprise_.He’d go to the gym later today and beat the shit out of someone with his shinai. That’s why he went to the gym anyway.

 

Ben smiled at Rey, Finn, and Poe in turn, using the diplomatic, friendly smile he’d learned from his mother as a child. Leia Organa had been a child star, a child of famous and scandalous actors.

 

At eight, he’d come home in tears, after a boy at school had teased him about his father being in jail for tax evasion. “Ben sweetheart, there is nothing wrong with what you’re feeling. That boy was trying to hurt you, he was cruel and very mean. However, people do that to control your feelings, to make you react a certain way, to have power over you. You can decide when you get to react and feel. Take it in, feel it, use it later, when you’re safe and comfortable. Never let them know that they’ve succeeded in taking control of your feelings. The only person who gets tell you what to feel, and how to express those feelings is a director.”  

 

Years later, Ben recalled this session in therapy and his therapist actually snorted while taking notes. It was a reassuring and unsettling reaction.

 

“Rey, Finn, it’s great to meet you both. I’m really looking forward to this project, I think we’ve really come up with some concepts that you’re going to be excited about Maz,” Ben avoided the urge to click the top of his retractable pen. Fidgeting was one of his tells, according to his father who taught him to play poker when they visited him on Sundays in prison.

 

Phasma was not the child of Hollywood royalty, she paused at her chair, resting her forearms on the top and stared at Poe Dameron. “What’s your game here, Dameron? All of the press releases have referred to Ms. Kenobi here as they or their until she tweeted a photo a fortnight ago.” She gave a sidelong glance at Ben, obviously curious at his lack of reaction.

 

Phasma had seen him punch an iMac that had offended him and run away with a camera belonging to a photographer that was creeping too close to them during a working lunch in West Hollywood. Ben had gotten two blocks away before he’d found an open dumpster, pocketed the memory cards and threw it inside.

 

“Ben and I are not here to be a pawn in some scheme to sell some YA fantasy novels through some sensational reveal that the author is actually a beautiful woman.” She yanked out her chair and sat in a huff, steepling her hands on the table top. “Start talking before we walk, and take everything that Ben has written with him.”

 

Ben sighed, keeping his expression tired and disinterested. He’d learned that skill from his Uncle Luke during meditation lessons as a child.  “Phasma, it’s fine. Whatever strategy they’ve come up with, it’s fine. It’ll be a nice change from the writer’s rooms full of geeks who’ve never spoken to a woman trying to write dialogue for a woman. Let’s just get to work. We don’t need a full Senate hearing on the complexities of marketing strategies.” He clicked his pen three times and wrote the date up at the top of his blank notepad. “We’re here to work.”

 

Rey knew she had no right, but still, she felt her eyebrow quirk, watching the screenwriter click his pen. She wondered if it was a force of habit, much like how Poe tapped his foot when he was agitated. Speaking of which, it sounded as if her publicist was tap-dancing under the table, his jaw clenched, a muscle twitching.

 

“Look, Hunt--” He was raising his hand, about ready to jab a finger in Ben’s agent’s face, but Rey caught his hand, shaking her head no. She felt ready to throw up, her face pale and probably sickly looking against her red lips.

 

“Mr. Solo has a point. We’re here to write. Unfortunately, I got a bit ahead of myself in my excitement, and I seem to have made a mess.” She glanced at her partner, wondered if she saw his eyebrow twitch, if he just narrowed his eyes at her. Rey felt her eyes narrow just a hair, and she bit her cheek as something--oh yes, annoyance-- flickered up, her muse withering to accommodate it. If she could, she would scream at the top of her lungs that she no longer wanted this, that she would be more than happy to go public with her identity and to walk away from the Disney deal if it meant that he stopped _looking at her._

 

Rey looked away, trying not to gnaw on her lip as she turned to his agent, the blonde Amazon not hiding any distaste for her. “If you must know before we continue, I wasn’t supposed to even have any pictures online until the press junkets for the movie later this year. Finn was just trying to keep my secret and let me have fun. It’s not my fault necessarily that everyone would rather have a man writing than a woman.”

 

“Patriarchy sucks, so let’s talk about our amazing universe, centered around a fantastic female lead, that everyone will want to dress up as for Halloween. Phasma, I don’t need you here to babysit me, you can go whenever you want. You’ll get your cut.”  Ben put down his pen in an effort not to click it again, as Rey had noticed that little quirk. It was unsettling. Phasma huffed and kicked him under the table, her stiletto heel digging into his shin.

 

“Really? That’s all there is on the subject for you? ‘Patriarchy sucks, so let’s fight it with a franchise’?” Rey glanced at Maz, who seemed to teeter between amusement and frustration, and shook her head. Maz Kanata was a staunch feminist, had marched back in the seventies for equal pay, still championing women’s rights now. This was going down the drain fast, and she wondered if she should open her mouth again.

 

She did anyway. “While I am all for providing girls and women with strong positive role models, I feel like it’s in bad taste to be planning on the sales of merchandise already. Don’t you think, Solo?” Goddamn it, she had promised to play nice, but she had a bad taste in her mouth now, bile coating her tongue as she looked at him, his face smooth, imperceptible. _So much for a lot of things._

 

“Well, someone in here needs to remember that for all our cool ideas, we need to make sure that this is a viable and profitable project. You know how I feel about the lack of representation of female characters in the media. I’m pretty sure I sent you a text message about that very subject before we created Mia,” Ben sighed, certain that he sounded like an asshole.  

 

“ _We?_ Mia was my creation. But I’m so glad that you’re so good about sharing.” She could hear the little bit of British lilt of hers spring up, all Cockney rage, but oh well. Rey could sound like Eliza Doolittle for all it mattered. She didn’t care if she was on the verge of malice, fists balling at her sides. Poe and Finn were still beside her, and she was sure that they’d have told her to behave a long time ago, but no, fuck that.

 

“How about this, Mr. Solo-- next time there’s a meeting where we talk about those _cool ideas,_ I just won’t attend? It would make it so much easier to take credit where you think it’s due.” She shoved herself back, catching herself with the table before the chair flew back too far, pulling herself up. She rounded the conference table, and if she so wanted to, she could’ve reached over and swatted that asshole’s head as she walked by, but instead, she tossed a look over her shoulder, yanking the door open.

 

“If you will excuse me, I need to go vomit. Excuse me, Ms. Kanata--I’m sure I won’t have a job once I get back, but it was an honor to meet you.” The door crashed behind her, and she didn’t care that the conference room’s walls were made of glass, that heads were turned and probably watching her kick off her heels, swiping them up as she stormed past interns and executives alike, veering to the right for the solace of an empty bathroom.

 

 _Stupid, stupid, STUPID!_ The words were already screaming in her head as the bathroom door clicked behind her, the tile floor cool against her stocking feet. Rey glared at herself in the mirror and she growled at her reflection. She ripped a few paper towels from the dispenser, wetting them and was halfway through dragging one across her face as the door sprung open.

 

Phasma leaned against the sink, enjoying the effect of being 6’3 and wearing an impressively expensive pair of stilettos. She examined her nails, recently painted a tasteful shade of crimson.

 

“The last time Ben got really mad at someone, he punched an iMac. That was a month ago. I’ve never seen him keep his temper - ever. We’ve worked together for seven years, and I’m his only friend because he doesn’t fucking like anyone. He clearly likes your work and is excited to work with you. Whatever he said about ‘we’ is about Ben always working alone. He read all your books and thinks you work well together.”

 

“I don’t blame you for this R. Kenobi business.Look at me for fuck’s sake. I get it. If I could hide, even a little bit, I would. I’m sorry I lost it in there, because this was my idea. I convinced him to do this, and I don’t want him to be hurt personally or professionally. The hazard of befriending a client, I suppose,” she said in a clipped, but still friendly tone.

 

Phasma flicked a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes and smiled at Rey, “I gave your books to my niece as a graduation present. She loved Harry Potter and Percy Jackson. She never saw herself in those books, and she’s going to UCLA to study English.”

 

“Ben told me.” The words were pathetic, dropping from Rey’s lips, glaring at herself in the mirror still, fighting with that damn waterproof eyeliner. She glanced at Phasma, deflated and honestly a bit tired. “That’s why he wanted to have a female lead. That’s why I was able to bring Mia back.”

 

She sighed, turning and leaning against the sink, feeling so small next to the agent, making herself smaller as she hugged herself. “I’ve been fighting so damn long to use Mia. She was my first heroine. She would’ve been in the first book, but my first fucking editor shut it down. I’ve been fighting for Mia and for heroines like her for my entire career...and it bothers me that he brought up money. The first person to really _want_ Mia and to _respect_ her like I do...and he brings up how she can make money. I get it, yeah-- we’re professionals. We need to make money or else we’re flops. But for him to just sit there, talking dollars and cents and costumes...he isn’t the person I thought he was.”

 

There was a laugh now, and Rey realized it was from her and that it sounded watery, a tear running down her cheek, probably taking that stubborn eyeliner with it. “Like I can talk though, right? He probably thinks I’m a creep.”

 

She stiffened and groaned, head meeting hands. “No number of epiphanies is going to save my ass though. I just shouted at Ben Solo, for god’s sake, in front of Maz Kanata. I’m as good as fucked.”

 

Phasma hummed, in agreement, pulling out a tiny package of makeup wipes from her purse and handed one to Rey, “I always carry these when I go to meetings with Ben because he makes someone fucking cry. Usually me, in frustration, as we drive home and then he buys me an absurdly expensive gift to make up for being an ass. I pretend I hate it, but it’s fantastic.”

 

She sighed and looked at Rey, “Do you know the director? Armitage Hux? He is incredibly bitter about not being a part of the development process. He is more of a spreadsheets and tax incentives type of director. Ben talking like that was an attempt to protect the project. If I were you, I  would just make sure that Ben doesn’t stand outside your house with a boom box because no one ever yells at him. “

 

“I doubt that he’s going to even want to get within a yard from me, let alone with a boombox.” Rey let herself chuckle at that, nodding with gratitude as she plucked a wipe up, rubbing it against her skin in earnest. She glanced up at the mirror again, her tired, dark circled eyes greeting her as she pulled the chignon down, sighing.

 

“Besides, if I’m fired, which I most likely was--I don’t expect even my agent to save my ass from that tantrum of mine--what’s the point of showing that he has a partner in me?” She knew that she looked like a mess as she glanced up at the other woman, so very un-Hollywood, but she wasn’t glamorous. She wrote books and lived in New York. Phasma probably didn’t expect her to even come dressed up today, so what difference did this make?

 

Phasma’s phone beeped, and she pulled it out to see a gift receipt in her inbox. According to the email, Ben had just ordered her a new pair of metallic, silver Louboutin stilettos. Apparently, the meeting was going just fine. They were at the West Hollywood store and would be delivered to her office by the end of the day.

 

“Ben just sent me a pair of shoes that he teased me about at dinner last week… So you’re fine. You’ve got me and Ben on your team. Turn around, I am fixing your hair-- it’s a rat’s nest. I am very serious: do not shout at Ben too much. He already liked you a lot when he thought you were a man. I’m fairly certain that you were genetically created to ruin his life. Also, don’t forget that Maz has worked with Ben a lot - she’s seen him do far worse. Far worse. This won’t hurt your career, it will probably help, because everyone is terrified of Ben. Including Ben.”

 

She pulled out a brush and arranged Rey’s hair once again into an artful chignon. Her large hands were surprisingly gentle and soft on younger woman’s hair. Rummaging inside her massive Birkin bag, Phasma produced two tubes of eyeliner, “I don’t really wear lipstick, but I do have liquid liner and kohl liner. If you want to redo your eyes before we go back. Everyone needs their armor on.”

 

Rey bit back a smile, shaking her head. “Thank you, but I need to pass-- my real armor is zit cream and a messy bun. This is as close as you--or Ben-- will get to seeing the real me at the moment.” She sniffled, clearing her throat, voice small. “I hate offices. I’d rather be at home for these kinds of things.”

 

The author could feel Phasma’s eyes practically boring into her head, and she glanced up, quirking a half smile. “I usually don’t yell. It won’t happen again. Not around Ben, anyway.”

 

“If you yell at him like that again, we’ll probably both get more new shoes, and he’ll awkwardly propose marriage.”

 

“To you, right? That’s an odd reaction to yelling, either way.” Rey knew that it was rude to raise an eyebrow, to squint at the taller woman, trying to figure out if she was joking or not. She could feel a slight rise of color on her cheeks, and she willed the flush away.

 

“Don’t be gross, Ben is far too short for me. Let’s get back in there, and show everyone how brilliant you are. When it’s over, we’ll get a stiff drink and you can tell me all about how your friends in there fell in love. They’re adorable,” Phasma dropped the tubes of eyeliner into her handbag and opened the door for Rey, “Welcome to Hollywood. It’s all tears and shouting. You’re doing beautifully.”

 

Rey snorted, shaking her head with a small smirk. “If that’s the case, I miss New York already. Things were less complicated when I was still there. My only problems with Ben then was that he’d text when he was tipsy and insist on adding a romantic subplot. I don’t know if he was flirting or doing what he does best. I don’t think he knew what he was doing.”

 

“You are spot on. Ben was doing what he does best. When isn’t Ben tipsy, really? Don’t worry about it. He drinks less once he’s working. He doesn’t get how things like to look to other people, because he doesn’t really speak to people that aren’t delivering him food. The romantic subplot is again, probably another attempt to keep Hux from cannibalizing your script into something _marketable_.  He believes that the only way to bring in female audiences to an action film is to have a love triangle,” Phasma snorted. “If he bothers you, tell him off. Don’t raise your voice unless you want to be the first ex Mrs. Solo.”

 

“I didn’t know I was even in the running to be the first Mrs. Solo, period. But alright--no yelling. Simple enough.”

 

“Rey, he doesn’t know that himself. He’s a genius but very stupid. He liked who you were on paper.”

 

Rey had to bite her cheek to stall her joke of _well, if he liked me on paper, wait till he gets me in bed,_ but suddenly, that wasn’t at all funny to her, and she doubted Phasma would laugh either. As it was, she knew that she wasn’t going to be able to look Solo in the eye as she paused in front of the conference room door, hesitating before nodding to herself, pulling the door open and slipping inside, Phasma following close on her heels.


	3. Contractual Obligation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week after their first face to face meeting, everything seems to be going fine. They're both professionals and they're both just fine.

Compared to what she was used to in New York, the apartment Poe had found her was huge. In Rey’s opinion, it was almost excessive but her publicist had laughed it off with a simple “That’s Hollywood, dear.”

 

At the root of it, it was simple enough, not at all one of the fancier lofts, like she imagined Ben or Phasma to have, but it was enough for her. The living room was the biggest part, which she loved, the sun always flooding in nice and early through the French doors that lead to her okay sized balcony. On days alone, she’d drag a chair or two out there and write among the potted plants Poe had left for her when he and Finn had moved onto their hotel room, attempting to make up for all the time she had spent indoors during this passing summer.

 

The kitchen was large enough that she had to climb on the counters to get to the highest shelf in the cabinet, and she doubted that she’d ever fill the fridge to full capacity, even if she went and grocery shopped for four hours straight. Finn had joked that the tub in her bedroom’s adjoining bathroom was probably Olympic sized, something that Phasma had jokingly confirmed when she had shown the agent around. Rey’s comment on the matter was that as long as the toilet wasn’t Olympic sized too, she would get on just fine.

 

To her, everything was gigantic compared to her New York shoebox of an apartment. It was something that she had to learn to deal with, to get used to. She couldn’t walk around yet in the dark, the space too large to navigate, the furniture spaced so far apart that she didn’t have the benefit of memorizing its placement by bumping into it. The living room’s couch and La-Z-Boy recliners weren’t as comfortable as her worn sofa back home, and she always found that she sank into the bed too far still, everything being too soft but artificially so, but she liked it. It suited her, muted warm colors, the walls white, the floors a honey colored wood, the accent rugs almost red against it. She fit in just fine.

 

Ben Solo, though? He stood out like a sore thumb against the backdrop of her apartment, much to her amusement and exasperation.

 

“You know, if it’s more comfortable, we can work at your place.” She’s standing beside him in the kitchen in an oversized cream sweater and some old gym shorts, watching him grab coffee mugs from the top shelf, the stubborn man insisting on coffee before they started work at nine a.m., like every morning for the past week. It’s maddening how routine this is, as if he came with the apartment, but no, every night, promptly at 5 o’clock, he’d shut down and head home for the day. Rey wasn’t sure yet if she was happy about that or not.

 

It wasn’t as if she didn’t attempt to get to know him--she did-- or that he hated her--Phasma insisted that he didn’t. She forced her face to smooth, even as her eyebrow twitched as if begging to arch with curiosity.

 

Ben shrugged, “I'm good anywhere, really. This is closer to my gym anyway, so it's not a big deal.” He wasn't really sure what to think of Rey after her tirade during their first meeting. No one had yelled at him, seriously yelled at him in years. She seemed skittish and worried every time that Ben showed up at her apartment at 8:45, every morning. Around noon, her tension seemed to dissipate and their writing would take a turn for the better. He knew better than to ask why she was so weird around him. The thought of Rey in his apartment made him start sweating in a way that was not professional or platonic. He was such a creep.

 

It was also curious that Phasma lost it during the meeting. She was usually so calm that everyone was a more than a little scared of her. When she had gone to the bathroom to check on Rey, he sent her a pair of shoes. He didn't feel like he'd particularly fucked up in the meeting, but it was disturbing to see Phasma so worked up.

 

Their first week of working together in her apartment in Silverlake, everything was fine. In a fit of mental stability and maturity, he’d been able to shove down any lingering doubts about working with Rey Kenobi. He was an emotional bento box, everything set neatly into their own little compartments until he was ready.

 

Sipping his coffee, Ben cataloged his injuries from his morning training session with Jeremy. Mostly just bumps and bruises from when his instructor had landed savage hits using his new bokken. It was wooden, like all bokken, but Ben swore that it was made out of harder material than usual. They trained together every week day morning at five-thirty in a ballet studio here in Silverlake that was halfway between their apartments. His therapist's office was also a couple of streets away, where he had a standing appointment at 6 pm every Wednesday.

 

“Excuse me.” Rey wondered if it would be too much to try and shoulder check her writing partner as he awkwardly loomed in front of the fridge, lost in thought, blocking her from her coffee creamer, as usual. She allowed herself to purse her lips as if she was trying to place him in a scene where he’d make the most impact, where he would be the most comfortable. She doubted that it’d be here.

 

There were amends to be made still, she was sure. No one could stave anger and not revisit it somehow, at some point. She had practically waited all week for some rude comment, some criticism on her latest scene, on how she wanted to write Mia’s burgeoning relationships with the rest of their cast of characters. Maybe he was trying to kill her with kindness because he hadn’t said one cross word to her since she had stormed out of the conference room, his expression always shuttered.

 

He still seemed lost in himself at the moment, and Rey sighed, setting down her coffee cup and turning to the bouquet that came in late last night, long after Ben had left. She almost expected that it was from him, with how Phasma insisted that he gave gifts instead of apologies, but no, the writing was too prim and immaculate to have been from the screenwriter, his scripts always smeared with ink, his hands always smudged red and blue and black.

 

The card that came with the flowers had clarified things, and she sighed as she plucked it up again, wondering if she was flattered or if that was a headache on the horizon. The card read, simply:

 

_So glad to be working with you, Miss Kenobi. Let me know if you need anything._

 

_-A. Hux_

 

His phone number was on the other side, but she hadn’t put it in her phone yet. It seemed wrong to, especially since she hadn’t met their infamous director yet. It seemed odd form to be sending flowers already, but then she heard Ben shuffle beside her, and she took the opportunity to swoop around him, tugging the fridge door open. She wouldn’t think too hard about it if she didn’t have to. That seemed to be the ongoing lesson for Hollywood.

 

  
Ben moved away from the counter, trying to move slowly as not to irritate the aches and pains that came from Jeremy's overzealous lesson. He pulled a tiny container of Advil out of his hoodie pocket and took four pills. The heat of the coffee mug soothed his jammed finger, and if he was honest, Ben was enjoying the pain today. It made him think about something other than Rey's strange behavior as if she was waiting for him to jump out of a closet and be an asshole.   
  
"Sorry, just tell me where to go that's easiest, " Rey was looking at the flowers she had been sent and looking as if she had a headache. "If today isn't good for you, we can work this weekend or later today." He leaned against the opposite counter and hissed in pain. One of the drawer handles pushed right on a growing bruise. In the shower, he noted that his torso bore a striking similarity to the spotted fur on a Dalmatian. Maybe he could score a ride home on a fire truck.

 

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” She knew that her eyebrows were still knit together, grimacing as she tossed a look back at the flowers again, and then to the man in front of her. “Are you fine? Do you need to lay down? Or go home? Hell, if you need to, I have Epsom salts and a tub large enough that you could soak. I’ll be fine writing on my own if you need to take care of yourself. I kind of wanted to sit on the balcony this morning anyway.”

 

He hadn’t said anything about being in pain, but his face was pinched and he looked as if he had stubbed all of his toes, over and over again. She realized that the look may have been from her suggestion that he use the bathtub, and she quickly brought her coffee cup to her mouth, trying to blame her rising color on the steam.

 

“Nah, it’s fine. My trainer got a new toy and was a little too excited this morning. Honestly, I’ve known him for six years, and this was the most excited that I’ve ever seen him. I think he might need to get out more. It’s nothing I didn’t sign up for,” he shrugged and tried to ignore the pretty flush on Rey’s cheeks that appeared after she suggested that he use her bathtub. Rey’s bathtub was certainly larger than his, but he wasn’t remotely tempted to use it. Even though he was too tall to curl up in his charmingly ugly turquoise tub, there was something comforting about sitting in something solid and old. An irrational part of him wanted to ask where the flowers came from. Maybe someone needed to apologize to Rey, but they were a supremely uncreative gift giver.

 

He glanced at Rey’s sunny balcony, and it was sort of beautiful looking. Normally, he eschewed anything that involved the sun, but it looked really picturesque out there, with little potted plants. It looked like a set dresser had come to her apartment and created a soothing Los Angeles escape for a Brooklyn hipster who was in firm denial about being a hipster.  “We can work on your balcony, it looks nice out there today.”

 

“We don’t have to--I don’t want to force you to get uncomfortable. It can be a tight squeeze when it’s just me and my notes out there.” She smiled into her coffee, muttering, “Then again, that’s because I like to spread out when I work. You’ve probably noticed by now.”

 

There was no way that he couldn’t have noticed, the two having been forced to try and accommodate their own writing processes and someone else’s all of this week. Rey, if she had space, liked to tack her notes to the wall and spread them out on the floor. She liked to flit between the floor and her feet, arranging and rearranging, but this week, she just settled for the floor, her notes and laptop forming almost a barrier between her and Solo as he lounged on her couch, sometimes with a joint in hand, sometimes just coffee.

 

“Did Armitage send you anything? To welcome you on board?” Her eyes had fallen back on the flower arrangement, and she couldn’t help but blurt out the question. The arrangement was pretty enough--daffodils and red tulips bound up with a few sprigs of lavender, the vase large and almost inconvenient in how it dominated her counter. She liked flowers, yes, but only when she could keep them alive. These flowers were doomed to rot, and Rey tried not to read much into that in relation to their gifter.

 

He didn’t mean to, but Ben laughed out loud at Rey and at the idea of Hux sending him anything. Brushing his hair out of his face, “God, I’m really sorry. No one has ever apologized for making me uncomfortable, that’s kind of novel for me. And well, it’s important that you know this now, rather than later... Hux completely hates me and thinks I got to be successful because of nepotism. He’s made my career rather difficult, and to be fair, I’ve made my career difficult all on my own.”

 

Rey’s expression was a mix of emotions and he was really uncertain if he should keep talking. Then again, Rey lied about her gender to build a name for herself, so she would probably understand. “I don’t know if you’re like, one of those people that look people up online, but my mom is Leia Organa. People don’t really see the resemblance until someone tells them. Hux seems to think that people give me work because she’s my mother.”  

 

It was uncomfortable, talking about himself to someone that wasn’t Phasma or his therapist. Both of them had financial and professional incentives to be discreet. He hoped that Rey’s seeming rejection of everything L.A. would include the predilection for gossip.

 

“Ah, well, in that case then…” Despite its size, the vase wasn’t too heavy, Rey swiping it up in her arms and stalking to the garbage can, stepping on the pedal and making the lid pop up. With a bit too much satisfaction, she dropped the flowers in, vase and all, hearing the glass bottom of the vase crunch as it met the bottom of the can. The lid crashed down again, and she dusted her hands off, glaring at the trash now.

 

There was a chance that Ben would see it as an empty gesture, as over dramatic, maybe even laugh at her, but if there was anything that she hated more in this world, it was people like Hux. She didn’t know what angle the director was planning on playing-- she was at first wondering if he was going to attempt to convince her to sleep with him, maybe even be his arm candy for as long as it took to produce the movie, but no, this made more sense.

 

Kiss up to one to undermine the other. She had seen that far too often, and the fact that he did so to further an unprofessional dislike for her writing partner? Well, even if Ben didn’t like her all that much, she liked him just enough to dislike Hux for him.

 

“You can always tell someone has no talent when they try to accuse others of being talentless. Everyone and their mother knows that you’re one of the best writers out there. He’s like a child.” She sniffed, grimacing at the distinct odor of flowers wafting from her trash can now. “Pity that he’s an asshole though. I love daffodils and lavender.”

 

It was hard not to grin at Rey, watching her throw away the flower arrangement and call Hux a child. Hux was a child, and it was nice that Rey was not going to be interested or party to any of Hux’s power plays when they finally started working together. When she was relaxed and being herself, it was incredibly hard not to like Rey. However, he knew better than to consider Rey a friend or anything else.

 

“Not bad Kenobi, I like your style. Very dramatic and up my alley. I’ll get you better flowers, ones without weird strings attached. Everything always has conditions and rules with him,” he set down his coffee cup and pulled out his notebook, slightly tattered around the edges from getting wet yesterday when he was in the bath. It was unfortunate that all his good ideas came to him while soaking wet or in a lesson with Jeremy. Neither was a good setting for writing things down.

 

“I was looking over some of the fight scenes, and I have some notes for us on that. Since we’re having a moment of honesty - that’s what I was doing this morning. I do Kendo every morning, fight with swords and shit. I also do similar stuff after work. What we’ve written, isn’t going to be realistic or really transfer onto the screen that well. Jeremy and I worked through it this morning. He totally beat the shit out of me, and I’m way bigger than Mia is supposed to be. I think we need to go through it again.”

He shifted uncomfortably, feeling a familiar burning sensation around his ears. His hair had gotten longer than normal, almost brushing his collarbone. Cutting it seemed like a lot of work, but having to keep a rubber band around to keep it out of his face when writing was also a pain in the ass. This week, he’d forgotten one every single day and it was irritating.

 

Rey chuckled at him, tugging a hair-tie off her wrist and flicking it across the short distance to her partner. “You better give it back when you’re done. I think I’d have to side with Hux if you start keeping my hair-ties.”

 

She pulled her own hair up now, running fingers through it to avoid a rat’s nest later on before looping it up and around, into a bun. Ben seemed to be stuck in place, staring at the hair-tie, almost dumbfounded, and she couldn’t help but snort at him. “Don’t worry, Solo--I won’t call you a hipster if you happen to wear a man bun in your downtime.”

 

Rey didn’t wait for his response, instead moving past him to open one of the French doors, shivering as a breeze brushed against her legs, the shorts useless for coverage. It’d be better once she was in the sun. “Coming, slow poke?”

 

“I like these, they don't leave that stupid bump in your hair, but we gotta talk about that fight. It doesn't work, unfortunately,” Ben smiled at Rey’s sass.

 

“That’s why I bought them. For me. Not you.” She paused, thinking. “What were you thinking for the fight? Like how doesn’t it work.” He looked like he was about to answer, but then she waved it off. “You know what-- _show_ me how it doesn’t work.”

 

Ben nodded and flipped open his notebook, pulling it out to show to Rey “Sorry if the pages are damp. If you look here, you’ll see that when Mia is going right, it’s super easy for the random bad guy that she’s fighting to come around from the other side, totally unguarded. He’d kill her - getting her right in the kidney.”

 

He stepped around Rey, carefully demonstrating where Mia was totally unprotected. “I don’t want to show you, show you, because I don’t want to get sued for possibly killing you or like, sexual harassment. It’s easy for this fight to turn into just a bunch of grappling on the floor. If you saw my bruises, you’d know that I look like Pongo the Dalmatian.”

 

Pausing for a minute, just behind Rey, he pulled his hair halfway back, just enough to keep it out of his face, “Also, guys with big ears don’t wear man buns, we’re trained from birth not to do that kind of thing. Nerd self-defense.”

 

“First of all, I wasn’t expecting you to go all Mortal Kombat on me anyway when I asked you to show me, so don’t worry. Second, depending on who she’s fighting, grappling on the floor isn’t a bad thing-- I know Hux is dead set on a love triangle. Maybe we could bring the antihero into this.” She wanted to roll her eyes, but Ben still stood behind her, so the effect would be lost.

 

“Are you enjoying the view back there or something?” There was a small sputter behind her, and she bit back a smirk. “Oh good, so you are listening. Anyways,” she turned to look at him now, hands on hips, “you’ve grown into your ears. You could wear a man bun with the best of them and the only comment the internet would have would be to call you ‘daddy’.”

 

“Shut up Kenobi, you’re gonna give me an ego and then I’ll be a real terror,” Ben tried to ignore his blush and focus on the writing. It was difficult because he felt like he was in one of those low-budget romantic comedies that are always shot in Vancouver or Toronto. Maybe Atlanta.

 

Powering through, Ben ignored Rey’s needling, “I thought you were against the love triangle? I mean, I don’t really care, but you know that’s going to be the first thing that people that aren’t Maz will ask about. Sure, we’ve had Moana and Brave, but neither of us in Lin Manuel Miranda or Pixar.”  He stepped back from Rey, he was too close and things were going really well today. Ben did not need for things to get weird again with her.

 

Rey could feel her grin shrink by a molar or two. She did hate the idea of a love triangle--had hated it since _Twilight_ practically made it a necessity, but knowing that the studio would push anyways? Might as well give in now. Still, she gave a half-hearted shrug, her sweater slipping down on one shoulder as she did.

 

“As long as I personally am not involved in a love triangle with our _lovely_ director, I will tolerate having one in our story. Just don’t expect me to do the research on it. I’m one shitty relationship away from swearing off of attempting reproduction ever, and I’d like Mr. Right to have a chance, eventually.” She forced her voice to stay light--no need to scare Ben off, make him think the wrong thing.

 

“I think I’ve got you beat, I haven’t been on a date in like, five years. At least everyone knows to not ask me about it, or about anything really. Anyway, if we’re going to boot the love triangle, which would be amazing, I think we could just lay a subtle foundation for something, lots of witty banter and teasing. Pretty sure that you can handle that without any research Kenobi,” Ben was trying to process the idea of Rey failing at a relationship. She was pretty, smart and fun. Clearly, she was meeting all the wrong people. Then again, he thought that all people were the wrong people, so he wasn’t going to give anyone advice about relationships ever.

 

He took another step back from Rey, she’d moved forward just so slightly, and that was somehow making _him_ feel weird. It was nine in the morning and he needed to have a beer or hit something very soon.

 

“Either you’re complimenting my wit, or you’re calling me a tease, but I’ll accept either as a compliment, I suppose.” She smirked at him, shrugging at his raised eyebrow. “To most people, I’m an author--one of the most non-sexy things ever. The most action I’ve gotten lately is getting flowers and a man’s phone number, neither of which I asked for.”

 

Rey turned, sweeping into the kitchen, making a beeline for the Keurig. She needed something to do, knowing full well that she just left too much information hanging in the air, that she had opened her mouth one too many times. She fumbled with one of the pods, shoving it in carelessly. “Do you want another cup of coffee? Or something else? It’s really early, but I may break into a bottle of wine.” _So much for being professional. I just need something stronger than dark roast._

 

Standing at the Keurig, Rey was still too close, but there was literally nowhere to go. His back was to the refrigerator door, and it wasn’t like he could crawl inside to escape. “I’m definitely complimenting your wit, it’s only teasing when the person you’re being witty with is too stupid to understand what you’re trying to say,” he coughed and crossed his arms, trying not to look uncomfortable or weird. Ben was probably failing spectacularly at both. “Hux doesn’t count because he’s the worst ever. Don’t do that to yourself.”

 

“Again, I didn’t ask for his number. And it’s not my fault that I’m such a hot commodity in Hollywood.” She stuck her tongue out at him as she brushed past him, filling a cup with water to dump refill the Keurig’s tank.

 

“If you're not careful, you’re going to end up like me and pay a dude who’s much better looking than you to fight you every morning at 5:30. That’s what happens when you’re a hot commodity. A lot of frustration and nowhere to put it.”

 

“You make it sound like I should have sex with Hux. Work out my frustration the good ol’ fashion way instead of spending money on a gym membership.” It was a stupid thing to say, but Rey tried to justify it as bantering to herself as she felt her neck flush, jutting her chin up, feigning brashness when she had none. There was a pause, and she shrugged again, forcing a smile. “Or I could be like any other single girl and get a vibrator. Bet it’d have a better personality than Hux anyways.”

 

“It’s not really a gym. We rent a ballet studio, and I bet even you would like fighting a giant Polynesian dude with a sword. Never sleep with directors, they’re too used to telling people what they’re supposed to be feeling and why their feelings are wrong.”

 

Ben shifted and uncrossed his arms, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. He didn’t want to think about Rey and sex, they were supposed to be working. It was like being fifteen again, where he was all limbs and unsure how to even walk properly. This conversation needed to get back on course, sooner rather than later.

 

“I doubt that any director would be able to feel anything themselves after I hypothetically sleep with them, but point taken. Besides, with my schedule? I’m basically a nun. Which is how Poe likes it-- he commented a while back about beating men off me with sticks once my Instagram goes public.” She needed to stop talking, but here she was, nervously chattering and being an idiot. What she does best.

 

“My uncle is a monk, up at this Zen monastery in Big Sur, it’s nice there. I used to spend a couple weeks with him there in the summer. I think you’d be really bad at being a nun,” he shoved his hands further into his pockets.

 

God what was happening. Was she flirting with him? Did he want her to flirt with him? Fuck. This was complicated and he needed to go away. Maybe scream into a pillow.See Leia and play with her dogs. Literally anything would be better than dealing with this weird conversation. He was into it, but it wasn’t exactly clear if there was anything to be into. He’d been alone for too long.

 

“Maybe we should like, take a day off. We’re both clearly not into getting anything done today. My brain is thinking about everything but work right now.”  

 

“Right. Good idea. I was just thinking that I needed to go explore the city at some point.” _Or drink an entire bottle of wine and forget that you just ruined someone’s day. Something._ Rey could feel herself fidgeting, her eyes suddenly finding her toes interesting, the black polish on her big toe chipping a bit. She glared at it as if trying to will it to chip more, something to focus on instead of Ben clearing his throat in front of her.

 

“That sounds nice. I grew up here, so I never really look around anymore. I am probably going to sit in my bathtub and smoke until something comes to me. I get all my good ideas when I can't exactly stop and write.”

 

“Oh, that’s really nice. It’s always really nice to be a local somewhere--so much easier.” She could feel herself babbling, and she forced herself to take a breath. “I’d ask for your help exploring, but you probably want to be productive, and I’d hate to kill that process.” _Again,_ was the unspoken addition to that and she forced a smile.

 

“Hah. It's not a process, it's smoking weed in tiny, vintage bathtub while I get my notebook wet and get ink all over my hands. Plus, wouldn't you rather call one of your friends? I'm not exactly a fun guy or easy to be around, unless it's about work,” he said, unsure of what was happening. This was complicated and Ben wanted his life to be complicated very badly. A sign that he needed to back away slowly from the entire situation.

 

“I promised the guys I would be fine on my own. It’s their first time on something even remotely resembling a vacation. I think they’re driving up the coast right now.” Rey tugged at her bun now, letting her hair fall, just to keep busy as she cleared her throat.

 

“Don’t feel like you have to come. I’d appreciate it, I really would, but I’m probably going to be quiet most of the time, and we both know how much you _love_ my talking, so me being quiet is probably not your idea of fun.” _I’m giving you an out. Please take it before I make a mess of everything._

 

“I like when you talk, and when you tease me. Don't assume that about just because I kind of hate everyone that it includes you.” He stared VERY hard the wood floors, noticing how the builder matched the grain. It was the sort of obsessive type of detail that he enjoyed.

 

Rey let herself laugh at that, wishing that the wave of relief and gratitude wasn’t so pronounced, so thrilling. “Well, then, Mr. Solo, would you like to watch a New Yorker curse at L.A.’s traffic and lack of culture? I’m sure your people-hating tendencies will be more than humored on this trip out, and I’ll be walking around here like a local in no time. Win, win.”

 

“Fun fact, did you know that you live in Silverlake, one of the most hipster places in Los Angeles? However, I live in the _most_ smug hipster neighborhood in L.A. which is the actual worst. So, if you’re missing Brooklyn, all you gotta do is go outside, and you’ll be right at home,” he shrugged, still uncertain as to why exactly Rey wanted to hang out with him. She’d made it clear that she wanted him around, which was confusing and annoying.  “If you really want to go, bring a notebook. I always want to write when it’s really inconvenient. Makes me a very in demand lover, constantly stopping to write shit down. Everyone loves it.” He was an idiot and needed to hit something. Possibly himself in the head with Jeremy’s new bokken.

 

The smile that was already on her face was widening now, raising her eyebrows at him. She should leave it be, but instead, as she stepped past him to go find her bag and a notebook, she reached out, patting his arm. “I have the same problem. I usually use voice to text on my phone though--lets you stay in the moment a little more, and all you have to do later is edit out the ‘oh gods’ and the ‘harders’.”

 

Rey turned away now, calling over her shoulder, “By the way, Phasma brought a punching bag over for you the other day. I think it’s in the coat closet if you need to indulge. You look a little flushed.”

 

“Die in a fire, Kenobi-- you’re dead to me,” he called, with no heat in his voice. Ben’s face now bright red and he wanted to kiss her or kill her.

 

“Mhmm, I’m sure I’m very dead to you. But do you want me to die literally, or Shakespeare’s kind of die?”

 

“Hard to say. I do think you really don’t  want to leave the house. Just putting that out there.”

 

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Was she flirting? Was he...flirting back? That was a surprise. He didn’t seem the type.  

 

“Well, I’m pretty sure that Phasma told you that I liked you, even when I thought you were a guy because she’s the worst. You keep flirting with me, in a way that’s isn’t really flirting, so it’s hard to read.” He swallowed and wished he could move from the front of the refrigerator, but Ben really couldn’t move. He was frozen like Bambi's mother, about to be shot.

 

“One: you didn’t really say why I didn’t want to leave the house. Two: even if she did tell me, how do you know that I don’t talk to everyone like this? I don’t mind making an uncomfortable joke or two.” She shouldn’t be stepping closer to him, shouldn’t be even entertaining any nonplatonic thoughts right now.

 

“I read all your books. You never just throw away lines. Everything has a meaning.”

 

Rey hummed in agreement at that, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter. She wasn’t sure if she was cornering him, voice soft. “Do you want my words to be throwaway lines right now? Answer me honestly--I don’t mind.”

 

Ben coughed and looked up at Rey, her hair down and eyes bright. She was so beautiful, and this was going to end very badly for them both. He should be smart. “No. I don’t want them to be meaningless. I want them to mean something.”

 

“Even if it means that I’m thinking of something very unprofessional?” She knows that she should stop, biting her lip as she watches him shift, toned muscles flexing ever so slightly under his hoodie. Rey knew that she shouldn’t be biting her lip, that she should pull her sweater up, that she should run and throw on more clothes, maybe even call Phasma, but she doesn’t. The ball was in his court, and she wasn’t sure what she wanted him to be right now.

“I punched an iMac last month, I’m not a fan of being professional, unless it is a contractual obligation,” he moved an inch away from the fridge, slightly closer to Rey.

 

“Am I technically a contractual obligation?” Her breath hitched a little as she slid herself just a little closer, sticking to the counter as if she expected her knees to buckle under her at any point.

 

“I own a paper shredder,” he grinned at Rey, proud of that line. He might have gotten some of his father’s charm after all.

 

“Hmm, okay. So if I’m not a contractual obligation, what does that make me, Ben Solo?”

 

He moved a bit closer, now about a foot away from Rey. He was a tall guy, and he didn't want to loom over her like a creep. He would move 90% of the way and see what happened next. “I was raised to not tell women who they are. I would rather have enthusiastic consent.”

 

“Well, that’s valiant, but you still have to help me out, _Ben.”_ She threw a little weight on his name, watching his eyes widen just a little, eyes darkening. She licked her lips, reaching a hand out innocently, just close enough that all he would have to do is tug just a little bit and he could pull her into his arms. “Since I’m not a contractual obligation, what am I to you?”

 

Reaching out, Ben pulled Rey in close and kissed her. He studied writing. Words were his thing, until now, when it really seemed to matter. Hopefully, this wasn't a horrible miscalculation and she would kiss him back.


	4. Shredder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously...
> 
> “Am I technically a contractual obligation?” Her breath hitched a little as she slid herself just a little closer, sticking to the counter as if she expected her knees to buckle under her at any point.
> 
> “I own a paper shredder,” he grinned at Rey, proud of that line. He might have gotten some of his father’s charm after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally earning our mature rating!

His mouth was hot on hers, and Rey all but swallowed a whimper when he ran his tongue against the seam of her lips, gentle but insistent. So _courteous_ , she thought, asking to deepen a kiss like that, but then she gasped, his grip tightening as a hand came to the small of her back, tugging her closer still.

 

Ben pulled back as their kiss deepened, and became more urgent. It was the sort of kiss that he wrote about for big-budget movies that he hated and never believed in, even when getting paid to write them. He looked Rey in the eyes, trying to gauge her reaction. Her lips were full and swollen in a way that made him never want to stop kissing her. “Rey, is this okay? I don't want to do anything that you are not up for, just tell me to stop,” his voice cracked a little and he wasn't even embarrassed.

 

Rey couldn’t trust her voice--not after that kiss-- and so she blindly reached for his shoulders, pulling him down and slanting his mouth over hers again, trying hard not to grip into his shoulders. She wasn’t sure where his bruises were, and the thought of finding out was like liquid heat and she tried not to moan as he cradled her head, his fingers cool in her hair.

 

It felt like she was coming up for air as she pulled back for a moment, and she wanted nothing more than to dive back into him. Instead, she reached up, fingers tripping along the borrowed hair tie before she tugged it out, shivering at the rumble from Ben as she pulled his hair just a little bit, teasing.

 

“This is more than okay. If… if you want to stop, please tell me now.” She knew her eyes were wide and a bit pleading as he looked at her, expression unreadable as he ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “But if this is okay...if you don’t want to stop...then I’m counting this as a brainstorming session.”

 

“I really love prewriting, so I am completely happy to keep going,” Ben traced his index finger down Rey’s neck, past her collarbone, and to her bare shoulder. He pressed a kiss to a small freckle on her shoulder, “So, I think we’re both happy and okay with making some unprofessional decisions today.” He turned away and pulled Rey along with him, “Show me what your room looks like. I want to see what you read before bed.”

 

“What if I wanted to be unprofessional against the fridge? Or the living room floor?” Rey attempted to look innocent but she couldn’t help the little smirk that tugged at her lips, the one that Ben was now trying to kiss off her face.

 

Ben kissed Rey’s neck and moaned a little, “Fuck. Okay, real talk? I haven't had sex in five years, and I want to get this right. I'm also completely covered in bruises.” His face had to be completely bright red, but they were rubbing up against each other like teenagers, so Rey couldn't really blame him for being really red.

 

She chuckled, crooking her finger at him to come closer to lean down, her lips soft and insistent on his as they kissed. “Don’t worry-- I was fully intending on having you on top. Cowgirl, reverse or regular, is a position that I save for really special times...like hopefully the next time we do this.” Rey stepped back, nudging Ben’s with her hip, smile all mischief and breathlessness. “All I ask is that you try to keep up.”

 

She gently pushed past him now, tugging her sweater up and off, tossing it behind her as she walked. She could feel his eyes on her, and it was exciting, so wrong and that much better. “Are you coming or not, Solo?”

 

Ben tore off his hooded sweatshirt and t-shirt, stumbling after Rey like he had just learned how to walk. The fifteen-year-old inside him did a victory dance, as he entered Rey’s bedroom and closed the door behind him. He managed to cross the room and crawl onto Rey's bed, fumbling with her shorts. She laughed at him and kissed his neck, moving down and finding the sensitive spot on his collar bone. Ben growled and batted her hands away, “Nope. I am going to go down on you and make you come for every time that you have smirked at me this week. You did that so much, that I kind of wanted to die. Revenge is mine, Kenobi.”

 

“Should I pack you a lunch? I think you’ll be down there for a while to reach that orgasm count.” She stuck her tongue out at him when he growled at her, leaning over him to kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, avoiding his lips just to spite him, smiling at him as he tugged her close but she let her lips hover over his, a tease. “Also, why do you want to fuck the girl who makes you want to die? It sounds like you have a death wish, Solo.”

 

Rey had wiggled out of her shorts and Ben ghosted a finger along her slit, “Rey, I am a very complicated man, with a lot of problems.” He held her gaze, still barely touching her, waiting for the moment when she would be distracted with a witty comeback. She rolled her eyes and pushed her long hair out of her face, before opening her mouth to say something. That was his cue. Ben pushed his index finger inside Rey, without warning. Her eyes widened, and she shivered as he pushed inside further, making a rapid “come here” gestures and viciously pressing his thumb against her clitoris. It wasn’t very nice, but Ben never claimed to be nice. Rey shuddered and moaned, making Ben chuckle, “I told you.”

 

She glared at him the best she could through heavy lidded eyes, leaning up to try and kiss him, but with every inch that she gained, he pulled back, his smirking lips just out of reach. Rey gasped as his thumb circled her clit almost lazily compared to his thrusting finger, and she squeezed her eyes shut, muttering something breathlessly that sounded like, “I’m so glad you don’t need to take notes on this,” but with her high pitched whine punctuating the end of the sentence as a second finger joined the first, she didn’t expect him to know what she said.

 

She wasn’t content with how her hands fisted into the bed sheets, useless to keep her from writhing, trying to get just a little bit more friction, her hips bucking as if she was electrified, little pulses of movement unbidden and involuntary, much like the little gasps and “ahs” that fell from her lips all too freely. The smirk on Ben’s face was almost unbearable, and so she slipped a hand between them, hand light on the front of his jeans, her thumb tracing the outline of his cock through the material.

 

He batted Rey’s hand away from his cock, smirking at her dismay, “That’s not what this is right now. This is revenge, for driving me insane for at least three weeks.” He kissed the inside of Rey’s thigh and laughed to himself as he felt the stubble along her legs. This was clearly not part of their plan for today, but that just made him enjoy it more. He would have shaved and cleaned up himself. It didn’t matter.

 

Watching Rey squirm, he settled himself between her legs and pressed his tongue against her clit. She stilled for a moment, breathing in loud gasps. “If this is too much, let me know. If you need something to grab onto, you can pull my hair,” he set to work, tongue matching the vicious pace of his index and middle fingers inside of Rey. She wailed and clenched around his fingers, unable to make any smart comments. It was both a pity and something of a pleasure to see.  

 

“You. Are. An. Asshole. Ben. Solo.” Rey hissed the words through gritted teeth, interrupting herself with whimpers, even as she sat up a little just to glare at him. Fine. He thinks that she could torture him? She was more than happy to wait to get him back. In the meantime, she buried one hand in his hair, the other one kneading her breast as she gently bucked against his face, wondering if she just heard him groan if he was actually enjoying this too.

 

“Ben...baby...please...touch yourself?” Her voice was soft, borderline pathetic, and she swore that his breath caught with her request. Rey could feel her face flushing and she wasn’t sure if it was because she used an endearment on a man who was going out of his way to be anything but endearing, or it was because she was that much closer at the thought of him burying his moans into her pussy.

 

Ben stopped mid-lick and looked up to stare at Rey, who was gorgeously flushed and out of breath. “What did you say, Rey?” He kissed along her thigh and began to slowly move his fingers inside of her, feeling her legs shake on either side of him.

 

If she was not trembling under him at the moment, Rey would have asked Solo if he was deaf, if she needed to speak up. Right now though, watching him languidly press kisses against her thigh and hovering his lips over her clit, the rise and fall of his breaths teasing and titillating against it, she didn’t have the time to be snarky. “Please touch yourself, baby.” She plucked at her nipple, not caring that his eyes darkened that much more, the girl intent on doing what she could to stay close to the edge as his fingers curled inside her and slowly thrusting in and out of her heat.

 

Yup. Ben had heard Rey correctly, she wanted him to touch himself, and he moaned right into her, like a horny teenager. He pulled his fingers out Rey, giving her clitoris a gentle flick before he took off his pants and boxer briefs. “Okay boss, I have my pants off. Do you want me to touch myself, while I touch you?” He settled himself in between Rey’s legs once again and nibbled on the inside of her thigh, enjoying hearing her breath hitch.

 

She felt so desperate, her nodding practically frantic as she pushed herself up onto her elbows and crooked a finger at Ben, her sigh being lost in their kiss as he surged up to meet her. She the back of her hand brush against him, marveling in how hard and how smooth he was, quickly kissing his neck before he could scold her for being bad, for not following his rules.

 

Rey felt like she finally had her breath back, even with this handsome man hovering over her, his gaze feral and yet adoring, and she tugged him down, their noses bumping as their lips touched. “Solo, I want your fingers on my clit as you’re touching yourself. I want you to be kissing on my neck and anywhere else you want because you’ll be trying so hard not to come, understand?” She tried to fix him with a stern glare, but she knew it was impossible, his amused smile finding her soft spot as she smiled back.

 

“Kenobi, you give a hard bargain,” he kissed Rey again, moving into a kneeling position and pulling her closer to him, pressing his fingers against her clit. She trembled against him, and it made Ben feel a bit lightheaded.

 

Rey leaned in close, “You’re supposed to be touching yourself, Ben.” She bit his earlobe a bit too hard, and then soothed the bite with her tongue. He shivered and wrapped his hand around himself, trying to match time with his other hand that kept stroking Rey’s clit.

 

“Happy now?” Ben whispered, his own voice shaky and weak.

 

“Mhmm.” Rey bit her lip, gasping lightly as she watched Ben’s hand fist around his cock, his face flushed, his breathing harsh. She rolled her hips against her hand, absentmindedly thinking of how that would feel once he was inside her, but from the catch in his throat, Solo had thought of it too, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment now.

 

“I’ve been thinking about this for the past three weeks.” Her voice was soft as if she was worried he would bolt, her hand gentle as she traced a finger against the head of Ben’s cock. Unlike the previous times, he didn’t push her hand away, his head lolling back with a murmured swear.

 

“You have?” his speech was slurred and there were so many sensations. His fingers working into Rey, the softness of her breasts brushing against him and both their hands touching him. Ben was not going to last, but he liked to think that he’d paid Rey back for every eye roll from the last week. He hasn't even considered what he was going to do about the dress and glasses she wore to their first meeting.

 

“What have you been thinking Rey? You made me do all the talking before,” he kissed her again and tried to ignore the urge to rest his forehead against hers.

 

She looked up at him, almost suspicious over his sudden gentleness, his lips forming a trail down her neck to the swell of her breasts. Her hand closed over his, stilling his movements, silencing any attempts at a protest with her lips. “Do you want me to talk about it all now, or after I make you come?”

 

Rey tried to look mischievous with her grin, even as her mind flickered to the possibility that there wouldn’t be an ‘after’, that he may cut and run, and she couldn’t say a thing about it. This may be a mistake beyond repair, and her brow furrowed from that distasteful thought, even as she stuttered gasps elicited by Ben’s fingers swirling around her clit, making her arch despite her doubt.

 

Her eyes never left Ben’s as she shuddered and gasped. “You should tell me, inquiring minds want to know.” Ben kissed her neck, “Trust me, I’m not going anywhere.” He pressed harder against Rey, pushing his index finger inside her and searching for the right spot to press against. Crooking his finger, Ben whispered, “What have you been thinking about for three weeks? Me and you? When you were all alone?” He moved faster and listened to Rey whimper softly.

 

“Y-yes,” Rey squeezed her eyes shut, groaning as Ben’s lips latched on her neck, his free hand reaching up closing around one of her breasts, his thumb lazily plucking at her nipple as if he was trying to see how many sounds she could make in one minute. Her hand blindly searched for his lap and she sighed with relief when she found his cock, fingers softly skimming against it before fisting around it.

 

Five years was a really long time to go without having sex. When Rey touched him, he let out an embarrassing sigh of both pleasure and relief. She increased the pressure and speed, and he let out another moan, “Tell me, Rey, what have you been thinking?”

 

“About you fucking me.” She pulled her hand away but only to spit on it, Ben’s eyes widening at how slick her hand was as she circled him again. “About you telling me how to touch myself through text or private message. About how hard it was going to be to not flirt with you.” There were so many other things she had thought of--what it’d be like to wake up next to him, to work alongside him, not as a business partner but as his girlfriend. There had been a lot of thoughts about him, and if Rey was being honest, half of them were dirty, yes, but the other half was naive and romantic and stupid… but he didn’t have to know, his breathing harsh, his look exultant.

 

“Ben, I want you in me.” He looked half delirious as she kissed him again, her hand slowing around his cock as she laid back, beckoning him to lay down next to her, their kisses slow, his revenge forgotten.

 

He laid back next to Rey, trying to slow his breathing in order to have a coherent thought, “Rey, do you have a condom or anything? I have nothing with me.”  

 

“I’m on the pill. It’s okay. Do you trust me?” She’d understand if he didn’t. They only met in person a week or so ago and now they were in bed together and...it was complicated.

 

Wow. That was a hell of a statement. His teenage years and twenties had taught Ben to be cautious, not even leaving his phone sitting out. It had been five years, and Ben knew, without a doubt that he was fine. If he was honest, writing with Rey was a far larger risk to him. All Ben had was his job and his professional reputation as someone difficult, yet wildly talented.

 

Ben rolled over and looked at Rey, running his hand down her sternum and cupping her breast. “Okay, I’m good if you’re good.” He smiled and kissed Rey softly, “Whatever you want to do.”

 

“Do you need to write anything down?” There was her smirk again as she leaned forward to kiss him. “I don’t know what you would prefer with your bruises and everything--missionary or doggie style-- but at least with the latter, if you need to grab a notebook and write down one of your brilliant ideas, you can multitask.”

 

“Rey, I’m going to need you to go fuck yourself,” Ben kissed her again and pulled himself on top of her. “Talk all the shit you want, but we’ll do this again after I buy you tacos for lunch. And again after we have dinner.” He threw her leg over his shoulder and kissed her ankle before he carefully slid inside her.


	5. Collateral Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Rey make a decision. Phasma and Poe come to terms with said decision, even if it drives them crazy.

Ben never fell asleep after sex. A small detail that he’d forgotten after five years of not having sex. His brain was working overtime, attempting to process that he had just spent the last 12 hours having ridiculous amounts of sex with Rey. Unprotected sex. She was on the pill and trusted him. He trusted her, and that was the craziest part of his day. 

 

When he was younger, Ben would normally leave by this point. He would have had his pants on about five minutes after they were both finished.  Rey was snuggled under her duvet, sleeping quite heavily. He wanted to stay here and hang out, maybe do some writing. Ben wasn't the kind that stayed, just like his father. Maybe he was changing, and that thought should disturb him. Instead, he was feeling warm and sleepy. He’d just close his eyes and think about it tomorrow.

 

Rey felt the bed shift beside her and she stirred, sleep heavy eyes cracking open to peek out as she rolled over, a hum reverberating in her chest with contentment. She watched Ben slip under the covers next to her, laying on his back, his eyes sinking shut. Outside, the day’s sun was fading, the sky melting from light blue to a bruise’s purple, and it reminded her of the spots lining Ben’s skin from his workout earlier.

 

It also reminded her of the little love nips they had left on each other, and for this reason did Rey reach for Ben, her tug gentle on his arm. She knew that her hair was a mess, that any eyeliner leftover from her application of it this morning at her bathroom sink was smudged, that her breath was spicy with lunch’s red pepper and jalapenos, that he may not be a cuddler, that he may push her away for good reason. She didn’t quite figure if he cuddled or not out earlier, be it because they’d enjoy the afterglow for a moment before their touches became heated again and they were rolling around once more or because they needed to do things like eat and nap. 

 

Rey preferred cuddling after sex than leaving without it.That being said, she understood that there were people who didn’t see the point of it, especially after such an intimate, exhausting activity. She thought Ben would be one of those types, and had tried to prepare accordingly, pulling a pillow close to her after the act to hold, his fingers a shock on her back as he had trailed his hand against her skin, the gesture more affectionate than expected.

 

Still, she waited for the expected ending of him leaving shortly after he was done with her.  She knew that it was wrong of her, but even after Ben had assured her that he wouldn’t leave after sex the first time, she had waited for him to leave anyway, to pull on his clothes, to say that he needed to salvage the day and write, preferably away from her. He hadn’t, which surprised her, warmed her, and confused her in one fell swoop. 

 

If there was anyone who could get away with just rendering her as a one night stand, it would be Ben, famous Hollywood type--but he hadn’t. She thought that she had him mostly figured out and then he would do something that made her reassess her assumptions, and this was just another one of those instances. Now though, her mind still fuzzy from sleep, she reached out both arms, her voice cracking a little from the hours of being unused:

 

“...Ben? Hold me?”

 

He was almost asleep until he heard Rey’s voice. She wanted him to hold her. Ben hadn't been sure if she was the type to cuddle. He pulled her close, “I am going to tease you about this later.” 

 

Her hair smelled nice, and she was so warm, so soft. Ben hummed happily, pressing a kiss onto her forearm. Limbs heavy, he started to feel sleepy again. Ben groped for his side of the duvet and swaddled them in the soft cotton.

 

“You smell nice. Is it perfume? Pheromones?” He smelled Rey’s hair and laughed, “You've turned me into a hair-sniffing creep.”

 

“Weren’t you already? And it’s my shampoo--mint and lavender.” She looked up at him as he feigned hurt, the look falling away as she kissed his chest, peppering a few more up to his shoulder and neck for good measure. 

 

“You don’t smell bad either.” She sniffed for a second, smirking almost proudly to herself. “You smell like sex and me. Much better than your usual cologne.” 

 

“I don’t wear cologne, that’s just how I smell,” he tried unsuccessfully to hold a straight face. It didn’t really work when faced with Rey’s smirk, an expression similar to the photo that had been posted earlier. “I think it’s my soap, if you really don’t like it, I can change it.” 

 

“No, I like it.” That was true--she liked that he smelled of sandalwood and cinnamon, but she liked how he smelled with her scent thrown in for good measure. It reminded her of being at home. 

 

“I’m surprised that you didn’t have any epiphanies during sex today. I was so looking forward to you running across my apartment for your notebook...and not just because I enjoy the view.” Rey hummed as he pressed a kiss to her temple without a smirk, his eyes looking like he was far away when she looked up. He was turning something over in his mind, and she wasn’t sure if she should ask, if she could ask. Instead, she contented herself with smoothing a hand down across his chest, coming to rest on his stomach.

 

He laughed softly at Rey’s comment, and stroked her hair, “So, considering how we spent our day and everything, would it be weird if I asked you on a date? I’m not sure how this all works.” Ben didn’t really know if Rey believed him that he didn’t date, but he was in foreign territory. He was cuddling with someone that he’d just had _a lot_ of sex with, but wasn’t sure if they’d go out with him. 

 

When he was younger, various mentors, writers, and acquaintances reassured him that his thirties would be more fun because he’d have more confidence, give fewer fucks. 

 

Six months into this thirtieth year and Ben felt like a teenage boy trying to keep his composure around someone he liked in school. He hoped that Rey didn’t hear how fast his heart was beating. 

 

“Are you sure you want to ask me out?” Rey could feel her face grow hotter, and she hoped that Ben wouldn't notice-- she didn't need another reason for him to tease her. It’d been awhile since anyone wanted to see her naked, let alone ask her out. The last time she had dared to dabble in dating, she had ended up with a broken heart and a book series written out of petty revenge. She didn’t want that to happen again. Not with Solo.

 

She should say that yes, it is weird, that they’re supposed to be working together, that falling into bed was a mistake. But there was her question hanging in the air now as if it was a way for her to buy time in his arms before things got complicated, before feelings were possibly played with, before everything went to hell. So she laid there, listening to his heart drum out what could be a love song in his chest, playing with his fingers before she clasped his hand close, bringing it to her mouth to kiss.

 

“Absolutely. I wanted to ask you out three weeks ago,” he smiled at Rey’s flushed face, glad that she was flustered by the situation too. 

 

“I respect you and I like you, so I’m trying to be direct with you.” He looked down and pulled her hand close, kissing her fingertips affectionately, to give himself space in case she said no. Ben was pretty used to hearing the word, but it wasn’t one that you wanted to hear while naked with someone you liked. 

 

“Can we date?” Rey wrinkled her nose, remembering the contractual obligations jokes they were making earlier. “I don’t want either of us to get in trouble.”

 

She was avoiding answering the question, at least directly. There was a possibility that he’d call her on it, and she almost hoped that he would, if nothing more than to force her to make a decision.

 

“Yeah, it was just a standard development contract. Neither of us are in a supervisory position over the other, so it’s not a problem,” Ben kept looking at their fingers laced together, trying to keep cool. “Unless you need it to be a problem. It’s okay if you want to say no, but I’ll probably spend a really long time secretly hoping that you change your mind.” He kissed Rey’s knuckles and closed his eyes, waiting for the blow to come. 

 

“I wasn’t going to say no.” Rey wondered if he heard her, his eyes closed, not even flickering open to glance at her. She was nervous, wondering if he was only yanking her chain, if he wasn’t serious about her. She couldn’t expect him to be though-- they only “met” three weeks ago. She wanted to ask him if he’d consider the relationship casual or not. 

 

Truth be told, she wasn’t sure what to do if he wanted a serious relationship--she had never been in one, her previous boyfriends had been immature, unable to keep up with her. This was a chance to do something different, but it terrified her. She couldn’t let it show though, leaning closer to kiss his cheek, murmur in his ear.

 

“I just don’t want to be the reason your writing process is interrupted.” She nudged him playfully, a smile curling on her lips as she joked, “I promise I won’t pull a Sylvia Plath and burn your writing if you promise not to be as big of an asshole as Ted Hughes.”

 

Ben cracked an eye, “My writing process sucks, please feel free to break my writing process. I promise to not be as big of an asshole as Ted Hughes.” The way Rey was sitting she had to hear his heart rate increase and he was trying really hard to be cool. 

 

He wasn’t cool. He was a misanthropic nerd who lived like a monk - keeping to the same schedule for seven years. He hadn’t had a serious relationship as an adult because there was just no one he wanted to try with. Now, there was Rey, and he wanted to try. This was going to hurt when she said no. 

 

A giggle bubbled up and she pressed a kiss to his throat, now his lips, now his nose “I’d love to go on a date with you, Ben.” She murmured it against his forehead before kissing him again, flattening her hand against his, marveling in how his hand dwarfed hers. She was such a goner already.

 

He let out a sigh of relief, “Good. Do you want me to take you out to dinner somewhere or make you dinner tomorrow night? Your pick since you’re new to L.A.”

 

“Do I get sex either way?” She grinned mischievously at him, throwing a lewd wink at him as he groaned. 

 

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me, and I am going to enjoy it,” Ben kissed her hair, “Whatever you want.”

 

“As long as you enjoy it…” she giggled, kissing up his jaw now and nipping his ear. “Going out would be fun. I’m at your mercy.”

 

He laughed and kissed Rey’s earlobe, “You can be at my mercy right now.” Pulling her close, he began to kiss along her neck, alternating between tiny bites and kisses to soothe her skin. Hearing Rey giggle, he moved along her jawline, “Just say the word..”

 

“Do your worst.” She laughed again as he groaned, her hand slipping between them and rubbing him. “Are you sure I’m at your mercy? It seems you’re at mine.”

 

“I should think that was fairly obvious Rey,” Ben moaned and his mind went blissfully blank. 

* * *

  
**Ben: Phasma - I have a date tomorrow. I need help. So much help, and if you make fun of me, I will probably kill you.**

 

**Phasma: A date? My phone is saying this is Ben, but I don’t believe it. Who’s the poor soul who fell for your “charms”?**

 

**Phasma: If you say Rey, I’m dragging Dameron over to kick your ass.**

 

**Ben: I refuse to tell you because I am not screwing this up. You will search for them online and then it’s over.**

 

**Phasma:... It’s Rey. Ben, you son of a bitch.**

 

**Ben: I’m telling Leia you said that. I’m looking at Firefly. Here’s a link:**

[ **http://www.fireflystudiocity.com/** ](http://www.fireflystudiocity.com/)

 

**Ben: I really like them, and I need you to not ask any questions. I’m happy. Please.**

 

**Phasma: ….Firefly seems right up Rey’s alley. You haven’t done anything else with Rey, right?**

 

**Phasma: ...if you slept with her, I’m definitely calling Dameron.**

 

**Ben: I am not talking about this anymore. Thank you for helping me.**

 

**Phasma:... you better have worn protection. I do not need any mini-novelists popping up from either of you.**

 

**Phasma: Wear something nice tomorrow. I doubt that she’s impressed by your writing clothes. If you need me for any goddamn reason, I’ll be here, getting drunk and calling Dameron to save his novelist.**

 

**Ben: Thank you Phasma. You’re the best.**

 

**Phasma: Fuck you, Solo.**

 

Phasma rummaged around in her desk drawer pulled out a bottle of whiskey, pouring a healthy measure into her coffee mug before slamming back the amber liquid. It burned slightly and she sighed happily, it was going to be fine. She’d call Dameron, Ben would wear a suit and they’d probably get married in the early summer. Phasma dialed Dameron, completely ignoring that it was nearly eight o’clock at night. He was probably at home after a long day feeding orphans or something with Finn. She tapped her fingers anxiously against the glass top of her desk and tried not to start shaking her knee. 

 

If Poe Dameron could brag about something besides his skills as a publicist, it’d probably be how quickly he answered a call. Maybe it was because he was always worried about his clients, or maybe because the phone never left his side (much to Finn’s exasperation), but Dameron always picked up his phone on at least the second ring.

 

“Do you have to answer that?” Finn’s whisper was louder than the buzzing of the phone, the movie theater dark as the heroine sucker punched another bad guy away from the hero. This was the latest action movie that Solo had helped write, and despite the violence, it was better than most in the genre. “It’s date night, can’t it wait?”

 

“It’s Phasma.” Poe was already half out of his seat, smiling apologetically. “I’ll be right back. It may be important.” Finn glared at him anyways before sighing and waving him off.

 

“Hello--Dameron speaking.” 

 

“I sent you a screenshot of the conversation that I just had with Ben, and I am having a heart attack. Please read it and tell me that I am wrong, for the love of God.” Phasma tried not to breathe heavily into the phone as she poured herself another measure of whiskey. 

 

Poe could feel his eyebrows lift as he took the phone away from his ear, finger swiping the menu down to find the text message. He felt his eyebrows practically touch his hair as he read, mouthing the words, gaping like a fish. “Oh.”

 

“What? That’s it? Our BEST clients and my goddamn best friend is sleeping with your goddamn best friend and I am really worried. He hasn’t dated in five years, he barely leaves his house. Ben  _ lives  _ in his head.”

 

“Didn’t realize he’d be so bold. Really didn’t think he had it in him. Sorry.” Poe tried to keep a straight face, a hand dragging down his face as he tried to fight the chuckle on his lips.

 

“This isn’t funny, mate! Tell Finn, I know he’s with you. Maybe he’ll have the good sense to panic. Fuck. He’s liked Rey since he thought that she was a  _ man _ and finding that little nugget out didn’t faze him in the slightest. I’ve heard him HUMMING this week and I am really fucking worried,” she put her forehead against her desk, grateful that she’d decided to work from home after lunch. 

 

“What do you want me to do, Phasma? Ground Rey? She hasn’t been thirteen in over a decade. I doubt she’s going to listen to me. Or Finn,” he added, feeling Phasma about to suggest his partner’s help again. “Have you said anything more to Ben?”

 

“I want you to tell me that Rey isn’t going to completely destroy Ben. Please, tell me that she’s a nice girl and that she is not going to ruin the cranky, secretly romantic asshole that my livelihood depends upon,” she banged her head softly against her desk, hoping that it would knock some sense into her head and then rub off on Ben somehow. 

 

“ I suppose I should ask the same about Ben. The last time she dated someone, they broke her bad. Phasma, I don’t know if you’ve ever had to sit through a writer’s breakup, but it was brutal when Rey was dumped a few years back. She locked herself in her house for three months and wrote several volumes of poetry. She wasn’t herself for a long time.” 

 

Poe felt his brow furrowing, frowning. “This could be the best thing to happen to both our friends or the thing that fucks them both up. Rey’s a good girl, she is. She also knows the risks. If she said yes to Ben, which she obviously did, she’s hell-bent on getting everything right.” 

 

Phasma sighed, “I met Ben shortly after he finished at Iowa when he was twenty-three. He’d published some really dark shit throughout undergrad and graduate school. That’s why he moved into film, it gave him space to work with other people’s ideas. He’s a good guy, the best. Don’t ever tell him that. He’s dark and brooding because he’s got a good heart and everyone in his life has disappointed him. His parents had this epic romance that completely crashed and burned. Ben’s dad did ten years in prison for tax evasion and his mom waited for him the entire time, took all the heat in the media for it. Really fucked up her career. Once he got out, and it was tough? He took off. Didn’t even see his own son graduate.”  

 

She swirled the whiskey inside of her UCLA mug and stared out her window, trying to find a good way to explain how someone who was intellectually snobbish and misanthropic was someone who got hurt too many times. Ben was an asshole, but he was her asshole. Hearing that Rey had been hurt before, badly, meant that maybe she wasn’t prone to flights of dramatic fancy like everyone in Los Angeles. It seemed like everyone seemed to think that a good relationship had to be dramatic. Good relationships and good businesses always looked boring on the surface. Phasma had learned that from watching her parents.

 

Poe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry to hear that. Believe me, though-- Rey’s a good kid. She’s our little ball of sunshine, even though she has every reason not to be. She’s an orphan, for god’s sake. Put herself through undergrad and grad school by herself after running from the foster care system at sixteen. She’s tough, but she just wants something normal.”

 

He sighed, shuffling his feet, watching people stream by, chattering. “I do have to warn you though: she’ll be anyone that she thinks you want her to be. I’m nervous that she’s going to think that Ben wants her to be fancy. She’s not. The girl would wear sweatpants every day if you let her.” 

 

An orphan who worked her way through school? Rey Kenobi was an actual Disney princess, beautiful, talented and kind. Her stomach couldn’t help sinking thinking about what Ben would do if Rey was ever anyone but herself. 

 

Ben would blame himself and then drive up to Big Sur to see his uncle. Phasma would have to chase after him on sixteen miles of dirt road, with shitty mobile reception and drag his emo, garbage ass back to Los Angeles. 

 

She sighed and rubbed her face with her free hand, “So, what you’re saying is that we’re either going to be going to a wedding or I’m going to have to chase Ben all the way to up Big Sur to make sure he doesn’t become a monk. Fuck. We can’t let Rey be anyone but herself. He will run away thinking that he made someone feel like they had to change to be with him. Luke, the idiot, will let Ben become a monk and I’m going to have to sell all my shoes on eBay.” 

  
  


“She only changes to accommodate people when she thinks they’re going to leave her.” He shuffled his feet, coughing. “She’s had a lot of people leave her before she even started dating. It messed her up. Why do you think all of her stories have a reunion of some type in them.” There was silence on the other end of the phone and he sighed, rubbing his eyes.

 

“Look. I’m not saying Ben would ever make her think that he was leaving. But this is Hollywood. This is her first time out in the world, so to speak. They’re going to need to take this slower than usual because of that because if she’s thrust into the limelight so soon, she’s going to worry that Ben would rather have a starlet than a nerd who still plays Dungeons and Dragons in her pajamas and prescription glasses.”

 

He squinted, thinking hard. “How much attention does Ben get when he goes out? Is he famous enough to get papped?”

 

Phasma laughed, “Ben doesn’t work on Saturdays because he plays Warhammer 40k with a bunch of guys who have no idea who he is out in the valley. Oh god. No one really recognizes him unless he’s with his mother or just releasing something big. If Rey is going to be worried about anyone, it should be Finn, because I saw he saved that photo from Twitter to his phone as her contact.”  She finished her drink and sighed, “He doesn’t run. He’s the most stubborn human on the entire planet and I am not exaggerating. Where are you guys right now? Washing people’s feet on Skid Row?” 

 

“We’re at the movies. Well, technically, Finn is enjoying Ben’s latest movie. I’m currently out in the lobby, talking with you and getting stared down by a baby. I didn’t realize you thought we were so charitable.” Poe chuckled, shaking his head at the faux gasp Phasma uttered into the phone.

 

“You both are incredibly nice, so I assume that you do things like helping orphans. I’ll send you a copy of Ben’s movie on DVD to your hotel, so you don’t miss anything. I like the heroine, she punches a lot of people in the face.” 

 

“Probably best if you don’t. Rey has a tendency to swipe movies from us. Probably will even more now that the movies are Ben’s.”

 

“God, they are going to be so gross aren’t they?”

 

“Probably. But hey, at least the kids will be cute.” He all but cackled at Phasma’s curse. 

 

“Let’s shoot for a May wedding since they’re going to have a busy fall with Disney. I’m sending you some DVDs and wine to your hotel. Thanks for talking me off the edge Poe, I was really worried since Ben didn’t deny having sex with Rey in the text, you know? He doesn’t just sleep with people. Instead of having sex like a normal person, he apparently beats up a gigantic stunt man with a sword and calls it exercise,” she felt relieved and happy as she rummaged through her closet looking for a basket to send over to Poe before they got back to the movie. She’d learned from Ben about the art of gift giving. 

 

Poe felt his grin shrink by a molar or two. “Wait, they actually slept together? I thought you were being overdramatic with him. He  _ slept  _ with her?” He could feel his face heating up, even as Finn nudged him, the movie apparently over.

 

He slapped a hand over his phone, muttering to Finn, “Ben Solo and Rey are fucking. Where did we go wrong?”

 

Phasma heard Poe’s reaction and started laughing hysterically, “Of course he did. Did I not mention the part where he liked Rey, even when he thought that she was a MAN and then rolled with it like it was nothing? The Tantrum King?  He asked where he should go on a  _ date _ and said thank you. He’s never done either of these things unless his mother is around. He usually just curses at me and sends me gross gifs when we text.” 

 

Her phone chimed and Ben had sent her a photo of him in a dark suit, with a white shirt and black tie. The man was looking for approval on his outfit. Jesus Christ.

 

She took a screenshot and sent it to Poe, “He just sent me that photo from last year when we bought that suit - he’s looking for outfit approval. Do you think that they didn’t sleep together?” 

 

Finn glanced over Poe’s shoulder as he pulled up the screenshot. “Oh, he looks nice. He should go for a blue tie though--less formal, closer to Rey’s favorite color.” Poe shot a scathing look at his boyfriend, and Finn shrugged. “He did ask.”

 

Poe pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m too young to be a father of a teenage girl. That’s how I feel right now. I didn’t even get the chance to give her the talk. Or to threaten him. God, Finn, we need to go back to New York before Rey starts driving a motorcycle with the hooligan.” He tried to keep the tone light, but honestly, at this rate, it wouldn’t surprise if Ben Solo had a bike stowed away somewhere. His girl always had a knack for finding the rebellious, unconventional types.

 

“Ben doesn’t do motorcycles, they’re too noisy and dangerous. He likes Uber because he can write in the back seat, and if you take Rey back to New York, you’re going to have to take Ben with you.” 

 

“At least then I can keep an eye on them.” He muttered back. “Should I buy Rey condoms?” He looked at Finn, panicked. “She’s still on the pill, right? Oh god, the kids thing was just a joke. Oh my god.”

 

Phasma let out a triumphant shout and pulled out the black wicker hamper she’d been searching for. It was perfect. She left her office and padded down the basement stairs to her wine cellar to look for a bottle or two to send Poe and Finn. He sounded like he needed a drink or ten.

 

“So, just to recap, you and I have now just switched places? I called you to panic, and you were totally calm. Now, you’re panicking about birth control and motorcycles while I search for some wine to send you. Do you guys like cabernet sauvignon? I have some great bottles from this winery up north.” 

 

“Cabernet is fine. Poe’s going to need something harder.” Finn grinned into the phone as he watched his boyfriend pace in front of him, muttering to himself. Poe had to pass the phone off, looking pale and ready to faint.

 

“Hey, Phasma. Before Poe goes into shock, do you happen to know where Ben is currently? I think someone is going to want to talk to Rey, and I doubt that we want to walk in on any of their love-making.” Poe let out a strangled groan, sounding like he wanted to cry even as Finn grinned.

 

“I have no earthly idea where Ben is right now, and if I asked him, he would absolutely lie to me. I’m putting in a nice bottle of twenty-five-year-old scotch for Poe, along with a few DVDs of things that haven’t come out quite yet. I would call Rey, but be prepared for anything to happen on that phone call, I think Ben is secretly kinky. He’s lived like a monk for almost a decade, so I’m not sure what he’s into.” Phasma returned from the basement, setting the bottles of Cabernet into the basket before searching her bar for the unopened bottle of scotch that a publisher sent her after a massive fuck up. 

 

Finn hummed into the phone, smirking as he shook his head. “You’re sick, Phas. But still, text your client and tell him to skedaddle in the morning at least. I don’t know if Poe will have a stroke or a blackout rage if Rey is wandering around in one of Solo’s shirts in the morning, so let’s take him out of the equation for a few hours. For Poe’s sake.”

 

“Ben is a creature of habit, he trains every weekday morning at 5:30, doing some kind of martial arts thing with swords. He would have to be dead rather than miss a session, and yes I am very sick. That's how I survive life in Los Angeles.” 

 

“Phasma, knowing Rey, she’s going to find a way to replace his regular workout plan. Text him anyways. I bet you fifty bucks that if he does go, he’s going to be an hour late and complain about it to you with a dopey smile.” 

 

“I'll take that bet because Ben doesn't commit to anyone or anything that he will not see through until the bitter end.”

 

“Considering that Rey texted earlier about Ben getting revenge on her, but didn’t detail  _ how,  _ I’m sure that she’s going to be the thing he’ll be committing to tomorrow morning.” Finn could both Phasma and Poe groan at that, but he couldn’t help it. It was nice for once to be the easygoing one.

 

“Finn, you are an absolute terror and my favorite person in the entire world right now. Please say something horribly graphic about them in bed together and I’ll add in some fantastic snacks I got the other day.” 

 

Poe had a raised eyebrow and a slightly murderous gleam in his eye, but still, Finn took the bait. “The last time Rey got tipsy with us, about two weeks ago, she may have mentioned something about wanting to see Ben naked just to see if his cock was as big as his ego. Regardless of his size, I doubt she was able to say anything snarky with said cock in her mouth.”

 

“We are in  _ public!  _ Jesus Christ, Finn, there are  _ children  _ walking around here!” Poe shuddered, burying his face in his hands. “I cannot unsee that mental image. Oh my god. I’ve been tainted.”

 

Phasma cackled, “Unfortunately for both you and Poe, I can confirm that his cock is as big as his ego. I went swimming with him at Leia’s house and was horrified. Now you too can be stuck with that unfortunate knowledge.”

 

Finn feigned shock, watching Poe’s eyes grow wide, panicking. “Oh my god, what did she say?”

 

“She said that Rey probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow, that she could have lost the ability to walk because of Ben’s huge cock.” Poe grunted with disgust, swatting his boyfriend.

 

“Finn, you disgust me.” 


End file.
